When Wendy Met Shelby
by Hayden Lucas
Summary: The story of how Ridgeway High's most well-known redhead met and fell in love with the famous cage fighter.
1. iWitness Fight Night

**iWitness Fight Night**

Wendy Miller was giddy. It had been a very hard couple of months for her. This wasn't high school anymore. She'd been accepted into perhaps the most prestigious art program in the state – the University of Washington School of Art. It was hard adjusting to college life for her, especially since her lot – artists and other creative types – were always on the outside looking in, anyway.

On the plus side, even on such a sprawling campus, she seemed to have the good fortune to run into her former Ridgeway classmate, Freddie Benson, fairly regularly. Freddie was a wonderfully sweet boy, and Wendy loved him a great deal. She loved him like a little brother, of course, but she loved him just the same, particularly due to his warm disposition and the fact that he reminded her of Carly Shay and Sam Puckett.

Their friendship had endured once they made their transition to college, having lunch whenever their schedules allowed. She did this for a reason. She knew very well that Freddie Benson had a girlfriend – Sam Puckett's identical twin sister, no less. She spent time with Freddie Benson because he was _safe_. He wasn't her type anyway.

The major plus, for Wendy, anyway, was the fact that the University was smack in the middle of the city she loved so much. That said, she and Freddie could meet up for lunch basically anywhere. It was just like high school, except on a much grander scale. They had chosen their favorite place from their Ridgeway days. It could only be the Groovy Smoothie. Wendy had offered to buy. She told him earlier, via text message, that she had big news. This was cause to celebrate.

_**LATER THAT MORNING, AT THE GROOVY SMOOTHIE…**_

Wendy saw him, sitting at their usual booth, munching on an onion ring. She bounded over to him, barely able to contain her excitement.

"OH YOU SWEET AND WONDERFUL BOY!"

"_¿Como?... _Uh… Hey, Wendy…"

Freddie Benson was thoroughly confused. The redhead wrapped him into a bone crushing hug. He knew that Melanie would be much displeased if she knew this redheaded mess of a woman was hugging up on her man. He chose to think of Melanie and hope that Wendy's temporary fit on insanity would pass.

It did. She was talking again, a mile a minute, as per usual. Freddie had tuned out half of the conversation, simply nodding and throwing in the occasional _'uh huh'_ for good measure.

"…She made that one Russian chick do this…"

Freddie had completely zoned out. He didn't know very many chicks, except for the ones they'd scrambled around Carly's apartment to find that one time, and he doubted that Poachy, Omlette, or Huevo were Russian. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Wendy laughed.

"Oh, you silly boy… Shelby Marx! I've got tickets to her fight tonight… She's just amazing!"

Freddie had to admit that he found the female cage fighter to be somewhat amazing. She had basically barged in to Carly's apartment and all he could think of was making her raisin toast. He jumped in, hoping he didn't sound completely oblivious, as Wendy prattled on about the expensive ringside seat she had for tonight's fight, courtesy of her parents. Freddie knew that Wendy's father worked for Pear, though he had no idea exactly what the man did. He knew she wasn't rich by any stretch, but she wasn't simply scraping by, either. He poked around on his phone. The _TicketWeb_ app told him that ringside seats for tonight's Shelby Marx fight were long-since sold out, but that they had a face value of five hundred bucks, Seven fifty if that included the VIP pass. Wendy pulled a lanyard from her bag, with a laminated maroon tag hanging from it. She was babbling incoherently. Freddie Benson was ill-equipped to handle something like this. Mythical Melanie was girly as all get-out, but Freddie felt that something was off. He thought for a second that Wendy had taken a hit of loopy gas. He didn't care. She was an old friend. She was an artist. Artists were supposed to be a little eccentric. He flagged down T-Bo and ordered lunch for the both of them. This was supposed to be a celebration.

_**LATER THAT AFTERNOON, IN FREDDIE'S DORM ROOM…**_

Freddie's phone pinged at him. He answered it immediately. It was Melanie.

"Hey, Gorgeous!"

"Don't you '_Gorgeous'_ me, Freddie Benson! I wanted to come see you and that roommate of yours said you were out to lunch with a redhead!"

"Mel… Sweety… Melanie… please…"

Melanie was glad she heard him out. She didn't know this Wendy person, aside from stories Carly and Sam had told her from high school.

"She's just an old friend, Mel… She doesn't know many people here, so we get together for lunch every once in a while, that's all, really…"

Melanie sighed on the other end of the phone, embarrassed that she'd let her insecurities get the better of her. She knew that if Freddie, Carly, and Samantha all counted her as a friend, this woman couldn't possibly be a threat to her. She apologized to him.

"Sweety, don't worry about it… Look, I'll come over to the house tonight. I know your sister's already bought the Shelby Marx fight on pay-per-view anyway…"

He could sense exasperation in his girlfriend's voice.

"A hundred dollars to watch some girl punch some other girl? In high def, no less? Oh, Samantha…"

They both laughed. He told her that he loved her, and that he'd see her at six thirty. They hung up.

_**THAT EVENING, AT KEYARENA…**_

Wendy was all whipped up. She was a diehard Shelby Marx fan, from the moment she'd heard that a teenaged girl was climbing the ranks of the CFC. Wendy thought she was absolutely magnificent. The fact that she was pretty darn easy on the eyes certainly didn't hurt either. Wendy had been keeping a secret, admittedly, rather poorly, for quite a long time. No one, aside from her parents, knew that she was gay. Seattle was a pretty liberal-minded, free-thinking town, and as an artist, she certainly knew her share of creative types who embraced the love that dare not speak its name. That was high school. Coming out in high school was, in most cases, akin to the kiss of death. She couldn't help but admire Shelby Marx. She'd never seen the women's champion up close and personal before. Until now, Wendy had always admired her from afar. It had always been magazines, the news, Splashface videos, or pay-per-view, whenever her parents indulged her that much.

Wendy was completely taken in. She sat there, ringside, staring through the steel mesh of the cage. The champion was just getting warmed up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Wendy knew she was making something from nothing, but she couldn't help but notice just how beautiful the tall, lean brunette actually was. She reminded Wendy of Carly Shay, except with muscles.

_**LATER IN THE OPENING ROUND…**_

The house lights had just come up. It was another short night at work for women's heavyweight champion Shelby Marx.

"…_AND THE WINNER BY KNOCKOUT… AND STILL… WOMEN'S HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, SHELBY MARX!..."_

Wendy was excited. She had a full twenty minutes to wait. The champion had time to shower and get dressed, but Wendy would have the opportunity to meet Shelby Marx face-to-face and actually talk to her. She was beyond nervous. What if she said or did something stupid and awkward? What if she acted like the Russian girl, whose jaw Shelby had kicked in two years ago? What if? What if?

_**TWENTY MINUTES LATER, OUTSIDE SHELBY MARX'S DRESSING ROOM…**_

Wendy fidgeted as she stood outside the champion's dressing room, her path blocked by a very large black man in a SECURITY t-shirt. At exactly the appointed moment, he inspected her credentials and permitted her inside. He didn't particularly like the fact that she was carrying a book bag, but, after a cursory inspection, he found no cutting, slicing, or stabbing implements. He felt that the champion would be safe.

Wendy walked in. She was quite surprised at how well furnished the room was. She took a few steps and slowly felt her knees begin to buckle. There, sprawled across the sofa in the corner of the room, a bowl of pasta salad in her lap, was Shelby Marx.

Wendy flushed slightly. She smiled weakly, not wanting the famous fighter to know she found her _incredibly_ attractive.

"Hey, How're you?"

Wendy looked around. The champion must be talking to someone else.

She wasn't.

"No, I'm talking to you, Red…"

Wendy chuckled. She closed she short gap and nervously introduced herself.

"Uh… wow… Hi… I'm Wendy…"

The champion smirked. She thought the nervous little schoolgirl thing was pretty darn cute.

"Shelby Marx…"

Wendy tried in vain to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, come on! I know who you are…"

Shelby blushed. Famous as she was, she still wasn't used to being treated like she was anyone special. This was just what she did. Shelby patted the sofa cushion.

"Come here, sit… relax…"

Wendy did just that, unsure of exactly why she was doing it.

She looked at the pretty redhead again for a long moment, as though trying to place her from somewhere. It took a second, but then she said the words that made Wendy Miller's blood run cold.

"Wait… You're Carly and Sam's friend, aren't you?"

The redhead gaped stupidly. She didn't understand.

Shelby smiled. She passed over her Pearphone, showing off a photo of Carly, Sam, and Wendy, clearly taken during Senior Week at Ridgeway. The photo had been sent directly to Shelby Marx from Carly Shay, explaining that Wendy would be at the fight and that she was a big fan.

Wendy fumbled for words.

"I… uh… big fan… Carly… yeah… high school…"

Shelby chuckled. They were in a room full of people – sponsors, TV people, promoters – and she felt drawn to this one redhead.

The two made small talk as though they'd known each other for years. Wendy was still nervous. She rather bluntly asked a question that made her feel out-and-out silly.

"Um… Shelby…"

"Yes?"

"Can I have your autograph?"

The prizefighter chuckled as Wendy produced a marker and a black, hardbound sketchbook.

"Sure…"

Shelby took the heavy book, flipping through it. It was immediately evident that this girl was an extremely, _extremely_ talented artist. It was even more obvious that her muse was Shelby Marx herself. The fighter smiled as she flipped the pages. There were photo-realistic sketches, black-and-white sketches. Ink sketches. Colored pencil sketches. There were sketches done in ink and accented in crayon. There were sketches showing her as an anime caricature. Shelby flushed. This girl obviously took a keen interest in her career. It was evident that this girl spent a very significant amount of time on each image. It also struck Shelby that none of this appeared similar to the obsessive fan art that she received with letters every week. This was fundamentally different.

Shelby flipped the pages again, lost in thought. She clearly wanted to choose her favorite before signing her name to it.

She settled on a very intricate, photo-realistic pencil sketch and finally set marker to paper. She thought long and hard about what she wanted to write. Shelby knew what she needed to say.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Wendy –<strong>_

_**You are an amazing talent. I can't tell you what it means to have someone take such an interest in me. You're incredibly sweet, and **__**definitely**__** someone I'd like to get to know better**_

_**Give me a call sometime…**_

_**XOXO**_

_**Shelby Marx**_

* * *

><p>Beneath her signature, Shelby scribbled her cell phone number.<p>

Handing the book back to Wendy, Shelby wanted to make things absolutely clear. She'd noticed it earlier, and now she was putting Wendy on notice that she'd noticed. Shelby caught the redhead's wrist, perhaps a bit more forcefully than intended. The soft leather bracelet, appointed with its multicolored beads, held a very special significance for Wendy. It was the way she could be _'Out'_, yet still be _'In'_. Shelby obviously knew this.

Wendy read over what Shelby had written, trying to put two and two together. Their eyes met, ever briefly. They spoke barely above a whisper.

"Wait… You mean?"

Shelby nodded, but barely, in the affirmative.

It had been a weird night indeed, Wendy thought. Shelby Marx, Women's Heavyweight Champion of the World, had just asked her – shy, insecure, art geeky Wendy – out on a date.


	2. iGo Home Again

**iGo Home Again**

Wendy couldn't concentrate. This wasn't right. She couldn't think straight, as if she'd ever thought straight. She wanted nothing more than to go home – to her parents' place – and sleep in her bed. Something was seriously wrong here. How could Shelby Marx – the most amazing cage fighter ever – be gay?

Wendy wondered exactly what Shelby could've meant during the cab ride back to her childhood home. There was no way in the world that Shelby Marx could be gay. There was just no way.

The Miller family lived in a modest home – well, modest by Seattle standards, anyhow. The building Wendy, her parents, and their little dog called home was a mile from Ridgeway High, and as such, central to her world before college.

She paid the cabbie and made her way inside. All she wanted now was someplace that felt like home.

Seventh and James wasn't the Bushwell Plaza, but it was home. It was _her_ home. She made her way up the stairs and unlocked the door. The room was dark, but Wendy could navigate in the dark. She made her way through the living room down the hall to her old bedroom, dropped her backpack inside the door, just as she always had in her Ridgeway days, and flopped down on the bed, only to hear a very cranky, disconcerted squeak.

Wendy had nearly squished her four-legged little buddy out of sheer exhaustion.

"Sorry, Bandit…"

The little Boston Terrier loved her. He licked her face generously. He missed his redhead.

Wendy tickled the dog's belly as she sprawled out on the bed. In the split second before she could feel sleep advancing, she remembered.

"Oh, dammit…."

The redhead sprang to her feet, operating on sheer adrenaline now. She _couldn't_ go to sleep without this.

She snatched up her book bag and tore it open at the zipper. She _needed_ to hold it.

Wendy grasped her heavy black sketchbook and clutched it to her chest. Shelby Marx had last touched this. Shelby Marx had complemented her art. Shelby Marx had complemented _her._

She carried the book back to her bed and laid down with it, fitting herself, the dog, and the book onto her bed. She clicked on the lamp on her bedside table. Wendy had no earthly idea what she was doing, but she did it anyway.

She pulled out her Pearphone, dialed the numbers, and pressed SEND.

_It was ringing. Oh God, it was ringing again! It rang again!_

"_Hello?"_

The voice was unmistakably that of Shelby Marx, the greatest female fighter who'd ever lived.

"Umm… Hi, Shelby… It's Wendy… you said I should call you sometime… and… well, it's sometime…"

The champion could tell that the redhead was nervous. The chuckle in her voice was meant to indicate that Shelby found this absolutely adorable. Wendy was clearly oblivious.

"_Ya know, from the sound of it, you'd think you'd never been slipped a girl's digits before…"_

Wendy laughed, not knowing what else to do.

"_Seriously, you haven't, have you?"_

Wendy answered sheepishly.

"No…"

"_Well…" _Shelby paused, _"I meant what I said and I said what I meant…"_

Wendy interrupted Shelby with a fit of laughter.

"You're quoting Doctor Seuss?"

"_What? You think I came into the world wearing boxing gloves?"_

Wendy flushed with embarrassment. She had just inadvertently pictured Shelby Marx naked. She spoke quietly, letting Shelby continue.

"Sorry… You were saying?"

Shelby found the little redhead to be absolutely priceless. This girl lit some spark inside of her that she didn't quite understand. She was so _ordinary_, in the very best senses of the word. She felt like, around this art geeky friend of Carly's, she could truly let her hair down and be herself – not Shelby Marx, World Champion, but simply _Shelby._

Shelby laughed on the other end of the line. Wendy felt butterflies stirring inside her rib cage.

"_I was saying that I meant what I said… I really like you… I… this is awkward, because, well, I'm… you know…"_

Shelby couldn't finish. Wendy jumped in, offering up her best guesses.

"What? Just a little bit famous?"

There was more infectious laughter. Wendy felt her insides turn into chunky red goo. Shelby Marx was even more amazing than Wendy had first suspected.

"_Well, Yes, that… but what I mean is… when you live the kind of life I live… in front of cameras and stuff all the time, you don't really get to be… you know, you."_

Wendy was confused. She thought she knew what Shelby was trying to say, but she wasn't sure.

"…And you're saying _what_, exactly?"

Wendy waited for Shelby to respond, only to be interrupted by her Boston Terrier, Bandit. The little dog barked, clearly wanting attention from his Mommy.

"_What was that?"_

"That was just my dog. He's two. Quiet, Bandit… Mommy's on the phone…"

Shelby laughed again. She loved animals, dogs especially.

"_I was saying… God… I was… I was saying… I really like you… How would you like to… you know… with me… sometime…?"_

Wendy was stunned.

"Excuse me?"

Shelby tried her best. She clearly didn't have experience at this, either.

"_Would you like to… you know… go out with me sometime… you know, like on a date?"_

Wendy was absolutely speechless. Not only was Shelby Marx in fact gay, but she had just asked her out on a date.

"You want to go on a date… with… me?"

Shelby stammered, her nerves betraying her cool public persona.

"_Yeah, I would… It doesn't have to be anything major, but, I'm… I'm really not anything at all like how the media portrays me. I'd like to… you know, start small and see where things go, if that'd be cool with you…"_

Wendy's brain had checked out. Of course it was cool with her.

_**FOUR HOURS LATER…**_

Wendy didn't want to hang up the phone. She never wanted to end the call, but she knew that she had to. Her battery was beeping in her ear, truncating every few words. She and Shelby had talked for hours, about everything under the sun and nothing at all, all at the very same time. She yawned quietly. She could sense a bright smile on the fighter's face.

"I'd better let you go, I know it's super late…"

It was. It was two-thirty in the morning.

"_That's okay, all I have is a routine doctor's visit tomorrow morning… Can I call you after?"_

Wendy blushed. She didn't like the sound of the words _'routine'_ and _'doctor'_, but she figured that it all came with the territory. She couldn't believe that Shelby Marx was thinking of _her_.

"Of course…"

Shelby wished the redhead could see her now. She was beaming.

"_Alright… Goodnight, Wendy…"_

Wendy wished Shelby a good night's sleep and finally ended the call.

The redhead fell backwards into her pillow. The shifting of Wendy's weight woke the dog, who readjusted himself, finally settling onto the warm flesh of the redhead's bare stomach. It was a beautiful evening. Wendy knew she needed her sleep. There was no telling what tomorrow might bring.


	3. iKinda Like You, Shelby Marx

**iKinda Like You, Shelby Marx**

Wendy called Carly Shay early the next morning.

"_Hello?"_

"Carly, it's me…"

"_Wendy?"_

"Yeah…"

"_What the Hell's up? It's… like…. Seven o'clock in the morning…"_

"I know it's early… just hear me out…"

_**TWENTY MINUTES OF GIRL TALK LATER…**_

"_Oh, Wendy, That's so great! I seriously had no idea, honestly… I just sent her the picture, you know, just because…"_

Wendy was shocked.

"You mean you seriously didn't know?"

"_No, I didn't know! You know, she and Sam… they don't get along all that well… because of me, I guess… It's that 'Alpha' thing… Sam has to, you know, stake her claim to me, I guess…"_

"Well, that's all very nice, Carly, but, seriously, like, what should I do?"

"_Do? Wendy, she asked you out on a date, not to pick out curtains… but either way, you won't have to change the monogram on your bathrobe…"_

Wendy chuckled. The point of Carly's joke hit home. She was making far too much out of this. It really wasn't all that serious. They could just start out with lunch today and simply take it one day at a time. Wendy would be okay with that. She'd never been in a relationship before. She would have been, if she'd had her way and if Carly Shay wasn't such a good friend. Carly _had_ to know how Wendy felt about Sam, regardless of the fact she had never said word one on the subject. None of that mattered anymore, anyway. Sam was with Carly, and that was how it was going to be. Wendy was no home wrecker. Sam was a good person and Carly was a good friend – she always had been. If they had found something in one another, it wasn't Wendy's place to intercede.

She spoke again, wanting desperately to underscore the point.

"Carly?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Promise me something…"

"_Of course, Wendy… anything…"_

"Please don't tell Sam…"

"_Why, Wendy? She's your friend too…"_

"Just please, Carly… Promise?"

Carly promised. She was a great many things, but above all, she was a loyal friend. Wendy would never ask something of her unless it was tremendously important.

The two friends hung up, promising to talk again later that day. Wendy's stomach had tied itself into a knot.

_**LATER THAT AFTERNOON…**_

Wendy sat on the park bench, nervous as all-get-out. Shelby had asked to meet there, as it was the most private place Shelby could think of, though it was still public enough. None of that mattered. The Marx media machine had leaked a fake story to the _Times_ about promotional obligations overseas, as well as negotiations for a fight to be held in Japan within the next year. There were, of course, no plans, at least at present, for a Tokyo fight. It was all pure fiction, allowing Shelby Marx, the young woman, a brief respite from being Shelby Marx, the media spectacle.

A tall, lean woman walked towards where Wendy was sitting. The redhead would never have recognized her as Shelby Marx. She could tell from a distance that the brunette was walking with a slight limp. She also noticed a Cobras cap pulled low on her head, pretty brown eyes hiding behind aviator sunglasses.

"Hey…"

Wendy smiled – at least until Shelby removed her sunglasses. What she saw caused her heart to jump into her throat. The skin above Shelby's right eye was split in two, closed neatly with butterfly stitches. The skin beneath was purple and swollen. Instinctively, Wendy's hand shot towards the injury. She wanted to comfort her.

The fighter spoke again. Her words came immediately, answering a question Wendy's vocal chords didn't yet have the ability to form.

"It's fine, really… looks worse than it is…"

Wendy still winced. Shelby looked at her and smiled. It was then that Wendy noticed that her lower lip was split, albeit slightly. It was an occupational hazard when you did what Shelby did, but Wendy wouldn't understand – at least not yet. If things progressed past today, maybe she could have some idea. Shelby wanted to keep talking. She wasn't here for Wendy to throw her a pity party.

"Wendy… I've brought you something…"

Wendy finally shifted her gaze from Shelby Marx's eyes long enough to realize that the fighter had brought along a picnic lunch, simply enough for two. It was _incredibly _romantic, even if that wasn't Shelby's original intention. Wendy was crushing on this girl something fierce. She didn't know if this was how she was supposed to feel, especially since she was here with a woman she never expected to meet, let alone share lunch with.

_**AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER…**_

Wendy smiled. She and Shelby were getting on like the oldest, dearest, and closest of friends. Anyone passing them in the park today may have looked at them with a questioning glance, given that they were breaking bread together, but the specifics of their relationship, if one existed at all, were ambiguous at best.

"Shelby… I… this was totally unnecessary…"

Shelby knew it was. She didn't have a reason for what she was doing, but since when did she need one? She was Shelby Freaking Marx. She liked this chick and she wasn't about to apologize to anyone for it. She didn't have much in the way of friends or family, except for her Nana, who'd raised her since she was small. This certainly wasn't a conversation Shelby could have with her. There was no way in the world that her grandmother would understand the feelings that went on inside her head. Shelby would face that battle another day. The only thing her Nana needed to understand now was that Shelby had made a new, very dear friend, and that her new, very dear, very redheaded friend made her smile. Shelby Marx didn't smile so often anymore.

The two made silly faces at each other and laughed, as they realized it was getting late. The sun was sinking lower in the sky. Shelby smiled. She could get used to this. This redhead brought out a completely different side of her, a side she thought had been lost to the darkness years ago. She pulled a small digital camera from the inside pocket of her jacket.

"To commemorate the moment…"

Wendy rolled her eyes. This was too much. She leaned in close, smiling, and resting her head – subconsciously, of course – against Shelby's chest. Wendy felt odd. For a second, she could swear Shelby Marx was holding her low and tight around the waist. She wasn't about to say anything, for fear that she was imagining the whole thing.

Shelby snapped the picture. It turned out beautifully. Shelby would be sure to email Wendy a copy tonight.

The pair got to their feet, collecting their things. Shelby politely tried to excuse herself.

"Wendy… Thank you… this was wonderful. I don't mean to keep you… I should be going…"

Wendy was hurt. She didn't want this.

"Shelby, please… don't go…"

Shelby Marx couldn't believe her ears. Nobody had ever treated her this way.

"Wendy…"

Wendy Miller was stubborn. Maybe it was all those years of school with Sam Puckett, but Wendy wanted what she wanted, and she was about to throw a Big Girl Tantrum in order to get her way. She grabbed Shelby's hand, interrupting her picnic packing.

"Shelby, please… come home with me… meet my parents... They're good people…"

Shelby flushed. She was a fighter by training, but she knew when it was a lost cause. Carly and Sam's redheaded friend was a much worthier opponent than she'd ever imagined, not that Shelby would ever complain.


	4. iHave Someone I Want You to Meet

**iHave Someone I Want You to Meet**

Wendy Miller practically skipped through the lobby of her building, she was so excited. She had insisted that Shelby come back to her parents' place and share dinner with their family, though she couldn't articulate her reasons why. All she knew for sure was that she didn't want to let Shelby Marx out of her sight. To her, the prizefighter was like an exceptionally good drug, and Wendy wanted this high all the time. Her fingers intertwined with Shelby's for the first time. They were holding hands. Wendy couldn't believe she'd done that, but it simply felt right. She was amazed at how different Shelby Marx's hands were from her own. Wendy ran the tip of her finger over Shelby's palm. The fighter's hands were calloused and rough, like a man's, from Wendy's experience, but still soft and feminine, in their own way. Wendy had no earthly idea what she was doing. She had told herself _'take one day at a time'_, but now she wanted to keep Shelby Marx to herself for as long as she lived.

The pair made their way to the elevator. Wendy figured this would be easier, as Shelby had quite obviously twisted her knee during the fight the previous evening.

"Easy…" Wendy cautioned. In the matter of twenty-four hours, Shelby Marx had gone from unapproachable celebrity to the object of her affection. They'd talked for hours the other night. Wendy had begun to see Shelby not simply as the fighter, but as a sensitive, sweet, gentle human being, despite how she made her living. She helped Shelby into the elevator.

"Really, Wendy, I can manage…" Shelby protested.

"Shelby, please…"

The fighter sighed. She knew she would never win with the redhead. It was becoming abundantly clear that this was simply the way Wendy was.

_**MOMENTS LATER…**_

Wendy flung the door open.

"Mom! I'm home…"

Wendy's mother called from the kitchen. From the smell of things, spaghetti was the order of the day.

"Did you get to see your friend, Sweetheart?"

Wendy blushed. She was still holding Shelby's hand.

"Uh… Mom… We have company…"

Wendy's mother scurried into the living room from the kitchen, hastily wiping her hands on a red apron. Carol Miller was an older version of Wendy. She extended a hand to the girl at Wendy's side, as she introduced herself.

" Shelby Marx…"

There was a flicker of recognition in Wendy's mother's eyes.

"Oh… You're the girl on the poster from Wendy's wall…"

Wendy thought she might die. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life.

"Mom!"

Wendy's mother continued, undeterred. She had seen the tall girl smile.

"You're right, Sweetheart… She _is_ rather pretty…"

Wendy looked mortified.

"MOM!"

"I'm just saying, Wendy Sue…"

"MOTHER! WOULD YOU PLEASE?"

Wendy had flushed nearly as red as her hair. Heat radiated from her face. Shelby chose to ignore it. She dropped Wendy's hand for a split second. She hoped Wendy understood why. It wasn't out of embarrassment. Shelby simply had to be the young woman Nana had raised her to be. She took Wendy's mother by the hand, shaking it in that gentle, yet self-assured way women used solely with other women.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Your home is lovely…"

_**TWENTY FIVE MINUTES LATER…**_

The three women sat on the sofa and talked as dinner simmered on the stove, awaiting the arrival of Wendy's father, corporate counsel for Pear Corporation. Wendy's parents loved her dearly. They didn't pry into her private life and Wendy, in turn, would never feel obligated to tell. She had come out at a very young age, telling her parents, at age fifteen, that she preferred the company of ladies, rather than gentlemen. Gerald and Carol Miller, concerned as they were at the time, trusted that they had instilled good values in their only child. They trusted Wendy's ability to decide for herself when she was ready to date.

Wendy's father removed his coat and set his briefcase near the door. He walked toward the sofa, stopped, and looked down at the young woman sitting on the far end of his sofa. He looked from the tall brunette to his daughter and smirked.

"Who's the girl and who punched her in the eye?"

Wendy knew that her father's sense of humor was dry, but she was still embarrassed.

"Daddy…"

Wendy's mother lectured her husband.

"Gerald, please… Shelby is Wendy's…. _friend_."

Wendy was embarrassed by her mother's tone, but it was the truth. She and Shelby were, to this point in time, simply friends. They had held hands, laughed, and clearly expressed a mutual interest in one another, but that was it.

Mr. Miller rubbed his chin, running his fingers through his beard. The light bulb had gone off inside his brain.

"Excuse me, Miss, but you _are_ Shelby Marx, are you not? The…" His voice trailed off. Shelby finished his sentence for him.

"Yes sir, I am… and to answer what I'm sure is your next question, Wendy and I have a mutual friend in Carly Shay."

Wendy knew she needed to say something.

"I invited Shelby to join us for dinner…"

Mr. Miller didn't care. It was only the three of them, plus the dog. Wendy's friends were always welcome. All of Wendy's friends were welcome, that was, except for that Puckett girl. The last time she had joined them for dinner, Sam had nearly eaten Wendy out of house and home.

_**AFTER DINNER…**_

Wendy, her family, and Shelby all sat around the dinner table, picking absentmindedly at the remnants of their spaghetti dinner. The Millers were anxious to get to know their daughter's new special friend. Shelby knew they weren't trying to pry, they were simply interested in what kind of person Shelby was. She attempted to be as forthright and polite as she was able, but it simply was not working.

"What type of work do your parents do, my dear?"

"Quite honestly, maam, I'm the breadwinner in my family…"

This didn't sit very well with Wendy's mother.

"That's just not right, if you ask me…"

Shelby couldn't blame her. Wendy's mom didn't know the truth.

"Well, Missus Miller, I was raised, primarily, by my grandmother, so you can see why…"

"Under those circumstances, I suppose it does make sense, yes. Can I get you something for that eye, Dear?"

Shelby laughed. Wendy clearly got the _'caring nurturer'_ bit from her mother.

"No, maam, Thank you. It looks much worse than it is. I really should be going… It's getting a bit late. My Nana will be worried."

Wendy's heart sank.

Carol Miller knew that look. It was young love. She didn't want Wendy hurting. She also didn't want Wendy engaging in_ that kind of behavior_ just yet, but she also did not want young Shelby Marx on the streets at night, no matter how good she was with her fists.

"Absolutely not. You can call and let her know that you'll be staying here. I know Wendy's father and I would simply feel better if you stayed the night, under the circumstances."

Wendy's mother nodded, clearly indicating Shelby's now-swelling leg. Shelby knew that she would never win an argument with Wendy's parents, so she spoke the way her grandmother had always taught her to.

"Yes, maam… Thank you very much."

Wendy's mother shot her daughter a look.

"You… You go brush your teeth and get ready for bed…"

Wendy flushed. She was in college and her mother was still telling her to brush her teeth. She excused herself and trudged down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving Shelby alone with her mother.

Once her daughter was gone, Carol Miller spoke honestly to Shelby Marx for the first time all evening.

"Shelby…"

"Yes, maam?"

"Please don't misunderstand me… but… may I ask… What are your intentions here?"

Shelby was somewhat taken aback, but also not entirely surprised. She looked Wendy's mother clear in the eye, answering her as honestly as she was able.

"Honestly, Missus Miller… Wendy and I are friends… but the truth is that I care for her, yes. I'm not sure where things might go from here, but yes, your daughter is special to me. I feel as though I've known her all my life. Believe me, I will treat her well, regardless of what relationship we have."

Wendy's mother smiled, somewhat uneasily. She touched the prizefighter gently on her good knee.

"That's all I can ask. I know she cares for you, too. I can see it in her face…"

_**MOMENTS LATER…**_

Shelby had excused herself, knowing that Wendy's mother wanted a word with her before bed.

"Mommy, I know you're not entirely comfortable with this, but I really do like her."

"Wendy, that's not it…"

Carol Miller held her daughter close, kissing her on the cheek. The redhead got to her feet, excusing herself. She knew that her mother loved her.

"Goodnight, Mommy…"

"Wendy?"

The redhead looked back toward her mother.

"Yes?"

"Your bedroom door stays open, young lady…"

Wendy blushed. She wasn't going to say anything more.

"Goodnight, Mom…"


	5. iCan't Sleep Tonight

**iCan't Sleep Tonight**

Wendy couldn't sleep. She thought that she was going to go completely insane. There in a black sports bra and sweatpants, digging into her hip, was Shelby Marx. She stared off into the distance, only to find Shelby Marx staring back at her from the poster on her wall.

Wendy wanted to scream. She had never slept with anyone before – not like this. Wendy wanted to strip down. The warmth of holding Shelby next to her was sure to burn her alive.

Shelby stirred against Wendy. It was clear to the redhead that something was terribly, terribly wrong. The prizefighter thrashed in Wendy's bed, fighting something unseen.

"No! Don't… don't you touch me! Go away!"

Shelby was sweating and crying, completely unaware of where she was. Wendy did the only thing she could think of. She held the tall fighter close, wrapping her up in her arms so she couldn't get even more swingy. She whispered into the taller girl's ear.

"Shhh… Shelby… It's me… it's me… it's Wendy… You're alright… it's all okay…"

Shelby Marx's eyes popped open, occluded with tears. She was now facing the redhead. Shelby buried her face in Wendy's shoulder, hyperventilating. She was coming apart at the seams.

"Shhh… Shelby… it's okay…"

Shelby pushed Wendy away, but not forcefully. She only wanted a little separation.

Wendy was hurt and confused, but she knew Shelby was hurting. She simply let Shelby breathe for a moment. She drew her close again, only wanting to comfort her.

Wendy Miller thought she was about to have a stroke.

Shelby Marx was a woman possessed. She threw herself into Wendy's embrace, hurriedly drawing her in. Before Wendy knew what had happened, the prizefighter – her new best friend and perhaps something more – had kissed her chin in a panicky rush. Shelby was flailing around in the dark. She wanted to absolve herself of this old, recurring pain the only way she knew how. You could only combat darkness with light. You could only slay hate with love.

Shelby's mouth found the cleft of Wendy's chin in the dark and advanced upward. Wendy didn't know what to do or say.

"Shelby?"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"I think that's fairly obvious, don't you?"

"But _why_?"

"Don't you want to?"

Wendy thought for a second. She did, but this wasn't love – at least she didn't think so. This was hot, sticky, panicky paranoia.

"I do, Shelby, but _the right way… _What is this?"

Shelby knew what Wendy was asking. She also knew that the redhead wasn't her friend – not really. Shelby knew very well that this lanky redhead was far more than that for reasons that she couldn't articulate. For reasons she couldn't put into words, this girl she'd just met made everything okay. She knew she had to tell her the full, complete, unadulterated truth.

_**TWO HOURS LATER…**_

"Oh my God, Shelby… That's awful!"

"That's the story of my life, Wendy Sue…"

Wendy flushed, even in the darkness.

"Please, that makes me feel like I'm in trouble…"

Wendy could hear Shelby chuckle.

"Wendy, look, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have…"

"Shelby?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up… I didn't say you did anything wrong, just that I didn't expect it. Under the circumstances, I totally understand. Everyone has nightmares…"

"Not like these, Wendy…"

"Yeah, maybe not… That still doesn't negate the fact that I didn't _mind…_"

There it was. Wendy was giving Shelby Marx _permission_ to feel this… _whatever it was_… that she was feeling.

"Wendy… I forced myself on you and I shouldn't have… I'm sorry…"

Wendy had heard enough of the fighter's excuses. At this point, she didn't much care for her parent's rules either, regardless of the fact that she needed to live by them, so long as this was her home. She just wished that Shelby would stop acting so goddamn tough all the time and allow her – Wendy – to get a word or two in edgewise.

"Shelby…"

The prizefighter had stopped crying. She felt so incredibly embarrassed. She simply laid there for a moment, resting gently against Wendy.

"Wendy… damn… I just…"

Wendy gave Shelby Marx a playful slap on the hand.

"Shelby… LET – ME – TALK!"

Shelby got the hint. This girl was more than willing to send her to the corner and not let her come out again until she'd had her say.

"Okay…"

Wendy smiled, her teeth sparkling, pearly and iridescent in the moonlight. Shelby found it eerily attractive, but chose to say nothing. She let the redhead talk.

" Shelby… just… I… I really like you. I am so sorry for everything you've gone through, but if you'll trust me enough, I'd really like to see where this goes… I promise you, you'll never have to worry about anything ever again…"

The prizefighter was incredibly touched. She adored this woman more than she could adequately put into words. She hadn't meant to bear her soul to her, sweaty, weepy, hyperventilating, and stupid, here in Wendy's bed, sidelined by a bum knee. She was Shelby Flippin' Marx! She was supposed to be stronger than this!

Shelby knew that it was all over. She couldn't live the lie any further. Shelby Marx, the public persona was dead, at least as far as Wendy was concerned. From now on until however long Wendy would have her, it would only be Shelby. It was time for the real Shelby Marx to stand up and be counted.

"Wendy… May… may I speak now?"

Wendy giggled.

"Of course you may."

Shelby inhaled deeply. She didn't know where she'd find the courage to say this, but her only thought was the one she decided to go with. She'd just do like she did in the ring. She'd simply let her mind go blank and do what came naturally.

"Wendy, the thing is… You and I can't be friends… No… that's not right, I mean, it is, but… we can't _just_ be friends… I can't explain it, but it's like I've known you, in my heart, forever. Let's just see where this leads us, okay? One day at a time?"

Wendy's eyes stung with tears. It was the most touching thing anyone had ever said to her.


	6. iClaim You As My Own

**iClaim You As My Own**

Wendy held Shelby close the next morning, there on the sofa. Her finger gently traced the indentation that was Shelby's navel. The big, tough prizefighter giggled like a little girl. That tickled.

"Wendy, Stop!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes, it tickles!"

"Too bad, Champ…"

Wendy's mother plodded into the living room, wearing a navy blue bathrobe.

"What is all this ruckus?" She said with a smile. "I heard crying last night… is everything alright?"

Wendy was aghast.

"You were _listening to us_?"

Shelby gently touched Wendy's arm. She didn't want to be the cause of family discord. She turned to Wendy's mother and spoke.

"That was my fault, I'm sorry… I apologize if I woke you. I'm… _well_, prone to nightmares…"

Without thinking much about it, Carol Miller crossed the floor, bent down, and kissed Shelby Marx square in the center of her forehead.

"That's alright, Dear… We all are, from time to time…"

Wendy's mother noticed how cozy the fighter looked, snuggled into Wendy. She chose not to say anything. Shelby Marx was certainly not who she'd envisioned Wendy with when her daughter was small, but things change. Male or female, white, black, blue, green, or purple, as long as her daughter was safe and happy; Missus Miller couldn't possibly have cared less.

"So, who wants breakfast?"

_**LATER THAT MORNING…**_

Wendy's father had gone out for his early morning jog. That left the three women alone in the apartment. They sat and talked, a Boston terrier curled into Shelby's lap. Wendy enjoyed moments like this. She and her mother were extremely close. She immediately thought of Carly Shay and wanted to cry. The fact that her friend couldn't have what she had was grossly unfair. She knew she was lucky. Wendy's mother kept talking.

"I'm not blind, girls… I see that things are… _well_, different between you this morning…."

Wendy loved her mother, but that didn't mean that, at this very moment, she didn't want to die.

"Mommy!…."

Shelby blushed. She patted Wendy's hand gently before turning to Mrs. Miller.

"Well…" She cleared her throat. Wendy's mother jumped in, wanting to make herself absolutely clear.

"Relax, Dear… Wendy told us that years ago… If you two have feelings for each other, you're adults, capable of making your own decisions. If you make Wendy happy, then that's all I can ask for."

Shelby didn't know what to say. This woman was the mother she had always wished for, rather than the broken woman who took off and ran. Shelby loved her Nana, but she could never put her personal life into words. She knew that her grandmother _understood_, but Shelby couldn't bring herself to articulate it exactly that way. She was thankful Wendy's parents were so cool in their mindset.

Wendy couldn't keep it in any longer. She cried. They were happy tears, but she cried just the same. She looked to her mother with bleary eyes.

"Thank you…"

"For what, Sweetheart?"

"For… for… _her_…"

Shelby, joined to Wendy's hip, blushed. She knew exactly what Wendy meant. She was trying to thank her mother for being understanding.

Carol Miller patted her daughter's thigh.

"Sweety, I had nothing to do with that. That was all your doing… or blame Carly Shay… Yes, that sounds better… it's all her fault…"

Wendy laughed. She knew her mother was joking. Her mother liked Carly Shay very much.

"… Or better yet, blame that little blonde delinquent she spends all of her time with…"

Wendy burst into a giggle fit. Her mother was hilarious. Missus Miller cared for Samantha Puckett quite a bit more than her husband did. Where Wendy's father saw a blonde-headed leech, eating through his groceries, his wife saw the girl with no father and a mother who drank too much. Much like Carly Shay, Wendy's mother worked hard to see the good in people.

Shelby gathered that Wendy's mother had a sense of humor that was just a bit, well, _'off'_. She poked fun at Wendy's closest friends and meant absolutely no harm by it. She was a sweet woman.

_**A FEW MOMENTS LATER…**_

Shelby returned to the living room, having changed back into her clothes from the previous day. Wendy had given her a hooded University of Washington sweatshirt to wear over her t-shirt which, in her mind, was far too thin to be comfortable today. She wanted Shelby to be comfortable. Wendy felt completely differently about Shelby today than she had even two days ago. She could never simply see her as the prizefighter ever again. She was so much more than that. She was a friend of Carly's. She was tall and lean and beautiful and complex and oh so many other things. She was the daughter of a man who had spent the past several years in prison and a woman who had fallen victim to booze and drugs. She'd been raised by her maternal grandmother. Wendy knew that the older woman surely had to have qualms about what Shelby did to earn money, but, like her own parents, would acquiesce to anything if it made their loved ones happy.

Wendy took Shelby by the hand, guiding her back to the sofa, pulling her close. If Wendy Miller had any say whatsoever, Shelby Marx would give up this life – this silly fighting thing – and be hers forever, content to simply be '_Shelby, Wendy's other half'._

"Come here… I've missed you…"

Wendy heard her mother's snippy comment.

"Oh, For pity's sake, Wendy Sue…. She was down the hall for maybe five minutes…"

Shelby smiled, laughing. She addressed Wendy's mother before anything else.

"Maam, I… I just want you to know how much I appreciate your being so accepting of me. Not very many people would…"

Color flushed into Wendy's mother's cheeks. Shelby Marx immediately saw what her new girlfriend would look like in another quarter century.

"Shelby, Dear… Life is far too short, filled with too many obstacles to get hung up on trivial things. Now, four years ago, when Wendy told us that she … well, that she loved differently than most people, we had the understandable concerns, but they were concerns based on her age at the time and nothing more. I trust my daughter. I trust that she's able to choose wisely, her friends and romantic interests alike. You, my dear, are a bit of both, and while I won't lie to you – the martial arts thing is concerning – but that is part of who you are. It concerns me because I don't want to see Wendy hurt. I know that if something happened to you, it would devastate her, and I don't want that… But, I suppose my point is… my daughter cares about you, so I do too…"

Shelby wanted to cry. This was completely foreign to her. People loved her for her, rather than what her fame and celebrity could do for them. She knew that she, Shelby, had chosen wisely too.


	7. iDo Lunch with Shelby

**iDo Lunch with Shelby**

That had gone far better than Shelby could have ever imagined. She held Wendy's hand as they left the home Shelby shared with her Nana. This was a foreign concept to the older woman, though not entirely unfamiliar. They never acknowledged it with a proper name, but Shelby's dear, sweet Nana knew the truth. She was acutely aware that Shelby fancied the ladies, rather than the gentlemen. That had been a virtual afterthought as she met the pretty redhead. All had gone swimmingly.

Wendy traced the inside of Shelby's palm with her finger. It felt amazing to walk down the street, hand-in-hand with her brand new girlfriend, and not feel one iota of fear. Wendy gave Shelby's hand a playful squeeze.

"Shelby…"

The champion felt playful.

"Yes, my dear?"

Wendy flushed.

"Where are we going?"

Wendy had absolutely no idea what Shelby might have in mind.

"Lunch. What do you feel like?"

Wendy laughed. She felt great.

"I dunno, surprise me…"

_**A SHORT WALK LATER…**_

Shelby guided the pretty redhead into a secluded booth at a tiny little Italian place that Wendy never knew existed. It was one of Shelby's favorites. She frequently came here all by her lonesome. The food was just that damn good. It was dimly lit, even for the middle of the day. It was one of those hole-in-the-wall places that either was terrible or amazing. There was no middle ground.

Shelby ordered for the both of them, cozying up to Wendy in the booth. They were completely alone, save for the staff. The champion pulled a significant wad of cash from her front jeans pocket, setting it on the table. The bill on the outside was a fifty. Wendy had no idea how they would eat everything Shelby had ordered, but _Sweet God_, did it sound amazing. Shelby had ordered a simple cheese calzone for herself, a chicken alfredo calzone for Wendy, to be followed by a deep dish cheese pizza. It was overkill, but Shelby adored Italian food. She had learned that it was also a favorite of Wendy's. It was fairly obvious, given the number of Italian cookbooks in Wendy's kitchen. Shelby Marx felt incredibly proud of herself.

_**AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER…**_

They sat and talked, still picking at the pizza. They weren't willing to admit defeat just yet. Besides, they simply enjoyed each other's company too much to want to leave anytime soon.

The two made small talk about anything under the sun and nothing in particular. They talked for the sake of talking. They talked because neither of them wanted to give the other any reason whatsoever to get up and leave. Shelby knew that there was no reason to leave, at least anytime soon. There was still a good half a pizza remaining on the table, demanding to be eaten. She didn't care how many calories this day entailed. She had months before she needed to be back in fighting shape. There were more important things in her life than fighting now – far more important, _redheaded_ things.

The champion noticed her cell phone vibrating across the table. Instinctively, she checked the caller ID. She needed to be sure it wasn't her Nana or the paramedics. Shelby was paranoid. She was obsessively concerned for Nana's health. It was simply the way that her life was. Despite all outward appearances, which suggested that that the CFC Women's Champion was concerned only with winning, holding on to her title, and preserving her unblemished record, nothing could be further from the truth. The only thing that mattered in Shelby Marx's life was her Nana.

Glancing at the caller ID, she saw that it was her manager calling. Whatever this was, it most certainly could wait.

"WHAT? Look, I don't really care… I'm kind of…."

Shelby paused for a second. She couldn't say that she was on a date. That would out her and make things plainly uncomfortable for Wendy. Logically, she knew that her inner circle already knew the details of her private life. Her life was an open book, so far as those people were concerned. Her concern, legitimately, was word somehow slipping out. That absolutely would not do. She continued.

"…I'm kind of busy right now… It's personal. I'll call you later…"

Shelby abruptly ended the call and powered off her phone. She'd take the chance, trusting the Law of Averages that her Nana would be okay until she powered her phone back on.

A young waiter approached her with the check. Even under low light, Shelby scrutinized him. It was the young Latin boy she had made friends with previously. He clearly did not wish to interrupt what must obviously be a very private conversation, as he'd never seen young Miss Marx come in with someone before.

Shelby knew that he was self-conscious over his lack of proficiency in English. Wanting to spare him any embarrassment, she began a polite conversation in his native Spanish, a tongue in which she herself was only moderately proficient. He introduced Wendy as 'her very special friend'. The young man smiled, nodded, and produced the check. Wendy smiled back, nodding to him. She'd pieced together that his name was Javier, or Javi, as Shelby had called him. He seemed pleasant enough. The bill came to just under forty-five dollars, tax included. Shelby peeled a fifty from the roll of cash on the table and laid it on top of the check. She handed the bill back to the young man, who was now shaking his head at her to indicate '_No_'.

Not wanting to take no for an answer, Shelby reached up and stuck her hand into his shirt pocket. It took Wendy a second to realize what she'd done, but after a long moment, the redhead could barely make out the words 'ONE HUNDRED', barely visible through the young man's shirt pocket.

The young man politely excused himself and let the couple continue talking.

_**MOMENTS LATER…**_

Wendy didn't want to be a glutton, but the pizza was just too damn good to pass up. She ate as she and Shelby talked.

"Shelby?"

Shelby Marx knew that she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself. She looked Wendy in the eye and burst out laughing.

"What?"

Shelby's face broke into a bright smile. She waved her finger in the direction of Wendy's cheek.

"You've got a little bit of sauce… just there…"

Wendy flushed with humiliation and reached for her napkin.

"Oh good God…"

Shelby smiled.

"Here, let me…"

Shelby Marx leaned in close, playfully licking the pizza sauce from the corner of Wendy's cheek.

Wendy was stunned. Shelby didn't care. She came closer still, this time her lips finding Wendy's. It was cautious, nervous, and gentle, but Wendy never wanted it to end. Shelby Marx had just kissed her.


	8. iDemand An Explanation

**iDemand An Explanation**

Wendy was stunned. She called her parents to tell them she'd be late, but she was a million miles away. Her mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Mom… I…. yeah… Shelby's… home later… love you…"

Shelby's fingers tickled Wendy's palm.

"Everything okay there?"

Wendy blushed. She still wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but Shelby Marx set her insides on fire.

"Yeah, I just…"

"Relax… it's just me…"

Wendy smiled. There was something in Shelby's voice that soothed her soul. When Shelby spoke, it was as though her words healed Wendy, as though the fighter possessed something that the redhead herself had always been missing. Wendy rested her head on Shelby's shoulder and walked with her down the street, the fighter's battle-scarred hand looped low around her waist. Wendy was extremely happy. It really didn't matter here. Seattle was a very gay-friendly town, but this particular neighborhood felt even more so. Shelby hid in the closet out of necessity, but she'd brought Wendy here for a reason. She wanted Wendy to see that there were places that they could go together without having to live the lie of being _'just good friends'_ or using some other stupid euphemism.

Wendy, like Shelby, had grown up here, but it was only in the past few years, since her mid to late teens, that she had some context for the world of adopted symbols in this part of town. The rainbow flag was obvious enough, but she was able now, as an adult, to understand why certain nightclubs attracted a particular clientele because she _was_ that particular clientele. These were her people. This was her community within her community.

She bristled as they walked down the street. They were more out in the open now. Wendy picked her head up from Shelby's shoulder and Shelby's fingers slowly fell away from Wendy's waist. They both hated doing it, but they knew it was what needed to be done, for the time being. There were too many people around who could potentially recognize Shelby as the famous mixed martial artist. Putting two and two together would be simple and disastrous for Shelby's career. It was horridly unpleasant, but they suffered through it. If they needed to play the part of best girl-friends, then so be it. It was all pretend, anyway. They each knew the truth. Inside, they both knew that what they had, whatever it was, was special, and no one could tell them differently.

_**A SHORT WHILE LATER…**_

Shelby kicked the front door with the toe of her boot, nudging it open.

"Nana, I'm home…"

Shelby could hear the television and saw her grandmother working a crossword puzzle. She was happy that the older woman appeared to be feeling well. Since her health scare a few years prior, Shelby doted on her. For all intents and purposes, her Nana was the only parent she'd truly ever had.

"Wendy's here… are you feeling okay? Can I get you anything?"

Shelby got fussed at.

"No."

She turned to Wendy.

"Hello, Dear… How are you?"

Wendy blushed. She'd only met Shelby's grandmother today, but she already knew that she loved this little old lady. She had expected the typical prejudices and misconceptions of her grandparents' generation, but found none. Shelby's Nana may not have had a frame of reference for a romantic relationship between two women, but she clearly understood that the artistic little redhead meant the world to her granddaughter.

"Very well, thank you, ma'am…"

"Oh, Shelby, Honey?"

The fighter turned to her grandmother.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"That friend of yours came by earlier, looking for you. I didn't know what to tell her…"

"Which one?"

"That pretty South American girl…"

Wendy felt uncomfortable, but Shelby squeezed her hand firmly, begging for her trust, promising her that she would explain and that it would all be okay.

"Nana, we'll be in my room. Let me know if you need anything."

Shelby's grandmother smiled, telling the couple to help themselves to fresh peanut butter cookies in the kitchen, if they liked.

Shelby declined. She took Wendy by the hand and led her to the bedroom at the end of the hall. They needed to talk.

_**MEANWHILE, BEHIND CLOSED DOORS…**_

Shelby flounced down on her bed, motioning for Wendy to come lay beside her. She did, albeit reluctantly. Shelby's Nana had scared her. There was some other woman in Shelby's life – some woman Shelby had never mentioned. She needed to know why. She spoke, stifling tears. Wendy was an artist. She was naturally emotional.

"Shelby…?"

Shelby knew what she needed to do and say. This redhead needed to understand that Shelby Marx considered her _hers_. In her heart, in her mind, Wendy Miller belonged to Shelby Marx.

"Wendy, my Nana really stepped in it today… What she said didn't come out right. It's not… it isn't what you think, I promise you…"

Wendy lay there, next to Shelby, and blinked. Shelby knew that she was holding her emotions in check. She threw her arm around the pretty girl's midsection in an attempt to draw her close.

"Wendy, look… Silvia is a friend, Sweety, nothing more or less. We fought last year…"

There was a glimmer of recognition in the redhead's eyes. She immediately recalled the fight. It was the main event of a huge pay-per-view package. Wendy's pleading, along with Sam Puckett disabling the parental lock on the Millers' satellite receiver had cost Wendy's father a hundred bucks for the fight, which Sam had ordered in high-def.

"_The Throwdown in Hong Kong_?"

Shelby laughed. The pretty little redhead really _was_ a fan.

"Yes…"

Wendy smirked, clearly amused that Shelby appreciated her. She shot Shelby a look. She was clearly in need of a little more information before she'd let this drop. Shelby obliged her.

"She was the South American champion, from Chile…"

Wendy raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Duh!"

"Well, what did you want to know, Princess?"

That part went unsaid. She gave Shelby a hard look, but that was impossible. She couldn't stare down the champion.

"No… Wendy! God, No!... She moved to the States to train… Wendy!..."

There was sincerity in Shelby Marx's eyes. She would never intentionally hurt Wendy. She took the redhead's hand, kissing each individual finger, followed by her palm. She looked her in the eyes and spoke softly.

"You and me, Wendy, understand? You and me."

The redhead smiled weakly. She was overcome. Shelby Marx threw her into a tight hug.

"You and me, deal?"

Wendy smiled.

"Deal…"


	9. iForget Where I Am

**iForget Where I Am**

Wendy awoke the next morning, not immediately aware of where she was. Her eyes came into focus and she realized her lips were stuck to Shelby's bare shoulder. She mumbled sleepily into the fighter's flesh.

"Go back to sleep, Sweety, it's early…"

Wendy was more awake now, though still fuzzy about everything that had happened the night before. She nervously asked the only question that her mind would allow.

"Uh… we didn't… did we?"

Wendy could sense laughter in Shelby's sleepy voice.

"No such luck, Little Red… you really don't remember, do you?"

Wendy was still clueless, but she felt safe. There was a softness to the fighter's voice that said Shelby Marx would never hurt her in any way whatsoever. She yawned softly into the fighter's shoulder and drifted off again.

_**A SHORT WHILE LATER…**_

Wendy stirred, stretched, and finally woke.

Shelby smiled at her from across the room, half-dressed.

"Rise and shine, little red sleepyhead…"

Wendy smirked. She couldn't help herself. Shelby Marx was right there, maybe ten feet away, wearing jeans that hung low and loose on her waist, plus a black sports bra. She felt that warm, fuzzy, electric feeling, turning itself over and over again in her stomach. Wendy knew now that Shelby Marx was, for her, far more than some silly, queer schoolgirl fixation. For a while, Wendy had gawked at, and nearly drooled over Sam Puckett, but it didn't feel the same. Sure, Sam was her friend, and as gorgeous as she was, Wendy knew, in her heart of hearts, that it would never work.

"Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"Dang, girl, you were like a million miles away…"

Wendy Miller flushed. Instantly, her brain clicked. She freaked out.

"Dammit! I need to call…"

Shelby laughed.

"Relax, I already called them last night. They knew you were here… it's cool…"

Wendy went slack-jawed. Shelby read her mind.

"Chillax… your mom's cool… now, come're…"

Wendy wasn't thinking. She felt drawn to Shelby on a subconscious, almost visceral level. She ran to the muscular woman, demanding to be held. Shelby was safe.

Shelby Marx held her close. She could tell that Wendy needed some emotional reassurance, after their misunderstanding last night. She drew Wendy to her and kissed her gently on the mouth, not caring that she was only partially dressed. She spoke in a whisper.

"Wendy…"

The redhead only blinked.

"Remember what I told you last night?"

She felt like a little girl, safe in Shelby's embrace. The fighter's muscles pressed against Wendy's stomach. She felt all whipped up, but in that good way. She smiled.

"Yeah… You and me…"

Shelby massaged Wendy's lower back, never once breaking their embrace. She whispered to the redhead.

"That's right… You and me. I… Wendy… you just… you make my life feel right…"

Wendy simply let herself be held. This felt like a dream. Shelby Marx was holding her. She felt like time was standing still.

_**LATER THAT AFTERNOON, AT WENDY'S…**_

Wendy lay across the sofa, her head in Shelby's lap. Her mother didn't quite know how to feel about this.

"Wendy Sue…"

"Sorry, Mommy, she just makes a good pillow…"

Wendy's mother believed her, but the image of her daughter using Shelby Marx's lap as a pillow was a little awkward. Shelby felt the need to interject.

"Ma'am, I want you to know how much I appreciate your support of Wendy and I…"

Mrs. Miller knew.

"It's okay, dear… She's my daughter. If you make her happy, then that's all there is to it. It's very much apparent how you feel for her… I just ask that you two don't…"

Shelby interrupted.

"Oh, of course not. Neither of us are even thinking along those lines…"

Wendy was bright red.

"Mom! God, I think I might just die!"

Shelby stroked her long red hair.

"No, you won't…"

Wendy's mother let her own uneasiness subside. She could tell that her daughter was capable of choosing wisely. She wasn't a little girl anymore.

Mrs. Miller got to her feet and returned to the kitchen.

"I presume you're staying for dinner, Miss Marx?"

"Ma'am, that isn't necessary…"

"Chicken Marsala…"

That did it. Shelby was sold.

_**AFTER DINNER…**_

Shelby was amazed. Wendy's mother was truly an amazing cook. She hadn't even begun to savor the meal she'd just eaten before Wendy was dragging her down the hall towards her bedroom. The door shut behind them. Shelby's world was still spinning.

"Wendy, what gives?"

The redhead simply kissed her. She finally felt comfortable enough with herself, Shelby, and everything that had transpired to this point to give in to her most basal desires. She broke the kiss and looked Shelby in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself…"

"Did ya hear me complaining?"

The body language told Wendy everything in the world that she needed to know. Shelby Marx stood by her decision over their lunch date. Kissing her that first time wasn't going to be an isolated incident, it simply had to be done appropriately. Shelby broke their kiss for a moment, looking her partner in the eye.

"Wendy, I hope you don't think that what happened at lunch was an accident, because I wasn't. I wanted what happened to happen, which is why… well, you know…"

The redhead did the only thing that, to her, made sense. She rested her head on the fighter's muscular chest.

"Shelby, I… I… um…."

Slender fingers caressed her back.

"Shhh… There's time to talk later. Right now, it's just time for quiet, Wendy Sue…"

"Shelby…" Wendy whined.

Shelby grinned.

"I think I've earned the right to fuss at you a little bit…"

Wendy blushed. She knew that Shelby had.

"Shelby… I… look, you can fuss at me all you want… on one condition…"

The champion knew that there had to be a catch here. She smiled, waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

Wendy let the suspense linger for a moment, as she wound the fighter's long dark hair in her fingers. She shot Shelby a bright, toothy smile.

"Fuss at me, all you want, Champ… my only condition is that you love me while you're doing it."

Shelby Marx chuckled. Carly and Sam's little friend was a handful and she drove a hard bargain, but it was a bargain Shelby intended to keep.


	10. iGet My Bell Rung

**iGet My Bell Rung**

Wendy felt sick to her stomach as she walked into this place. There were shirtless men pummeling each other everywhere she looked. Sure, she liked boys just fine, but boys were there for things like random lunch dates, or going shopping or to the movies. Boys were supposed to be like Freddie Benson. They were meant to be the best friends you've ever had. People like Shelby were meant for loving.

The Seattle Fight Club had originally been built in the thirties. There were all sorts of fight posters on the wall, including one celebrating the charity exhibition between Shelby Marx and Carly Shay. Wendy's heart filled with pride, because she knew that were it not for her friendship with Carly Shay and Sam Puckett, she would never have met and fallen in love with Shelby Marx.

She spotted her pretty lady in the main ring, sparring. She recognized Shelby's sparring partner as the number three ranked contender internationally, a thin, bleached blonde from Venezuela. She thought this girl was quite attractive. Then it happened.

A crossing right slammed into Shelby's temple, sending her reeling. A left hook slammed into the opposite side of Shelby's head, sending her to her knees.

Wendy wanted to throw up.

Shelby's trainer was immediately in the center of the ring, hovering over the champion, screaming in the face of the opposing fighter.

"TIME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT 'SPARRING' MEANS? IT MEANS YOU GO EASY!"

Shelby was now on her feet, still obviously dazed. She spat her mouth guard to the canvas and shook her head. Even with gloves on, she managed to remove the headgear.

"What the hell? I mean, unless my title's on the line and I didn't know it, I'd think you wanted to send me to the hospital!"

Shelby felt male hands around her naked stomach. Her trainer was holding her back.

"Relax, Champ… We're done for now… go cool down…"

In a display of temper Wendy had never seen before, Shelby picked up her headgear and whipped it out of the ring. Shelby Marx was whipped up. She stomped off.

Everyone in the gym knew not to screw with Shelby Marx. She was the champion for a reason. Male or female, she was perfectly capable of taking your head off. Wendy followed behind her at a discreet distance.

_**MOMENTS LATER, IN THE WOMEN'S LOCKER ROOM…**_

Shelby slumped in front of her locker. Her head hurt immensely, but what worried her more was the strange electrical feeling radiating from her temples throughout her skull. This wasn't like her previous concussions. Whatever this was, it was _different_.

"Shelby…?"

The fighter froze. She knew that voice. The champion turned her head as fast as the fuzzy, electric feeling inside her skull would allow.

"Wendy? What are you doing here?"

The redhead was hurt.

"I missed you…"

Shelby felt horrible. She didn't want Wendy to see her like this. She also didn't want to push her away.

"Wendy, I… I'm…"

Wendy knew that Shelby was hurt. She'd seen the hit she'd taken. She held her close.

"Shelby, I don't care about what your contract says or what fight you're training for… You are coming home with me and I'll take care of you as long as I need to…"

"Wendy, you didn't have to come here… It's an occupational hazard… I'll be okay… eventually…"

Wendy wanted to cry. She was absolutely sick inside.

"Eventually? Shelby, this isn't about your career… not anymore…"

The prizefighter didn't know what to say or do. She knew that Wendy cared for her, but she couldn't allow this girl to hurt because of her. Shelby thought she understood, but she was clearly mistaken.

"Wendy, eventually, I'm going to retire, and it won't be so interesting having me around…"

Wendy would have gotten violent if it was in her nature. She wanted to make Shelby understand that this was about something more than celebrity.

She took the fighter's taped hand gently. Shelby needed to know. She spoke quietly. This was about them and no one else.

"Shelby, look… this isn't about your title or fame or fortune or everything that goes with it… This is about _us_…"

Shelby's eyes went wide. She was afraid that that knock to her head had screwed up her vision. She felt the pressure behind her eyes that she knew led to tears.

"What do you mean, _'__us__'_?"

Wendy summoned all the strength she had to say the words. She'd gone over them in her head a thousand times since things began getting… whatever they were, but Wendy knew that Shelby was the only one she wanted.

"Shelby, you're not just a fighter to me anymore… You're not just the girl I spend crazy money to watch on pay-per-view… the girl I argue with Sam Puckett about until three in the morning…"

Shelby shot her a cock-eyed look. Wendy wasn't sure if it was the head injury acting up or not, but she continued anyway.

"My point is, you beautiful, beautiful lady, with muscles rippling that make me go all weak in the knees… that I'm not going any damn place! I don't know what it is about you, but you make my life better simply by being in it, and, while I'm a fan, girlfriend me isn't really happy to see you get hit…"

Shelby chuckled.

"Girlfriend you?"

"Well, isn't that what I am?"

Shelby paused a long moment, staring into Wendy's eyes. Truth be told, Shelby's mind had been made up a long time ago, but she liked seeing Wendy twist in the wind, even for a split second.

"If you wanna be, Red…"

Shelby tried to look tough, but failed. It was impossible to be butch when the one you wanted had just seen you at your most fragile and vulnerable. She looked to Wendy with slightly dull eyes, evidence of the fact that Shelby's internal bell had been rung rather severely. She squeezed Wendy's hand in hers. There wasn't any need for further discussion. It was abundantly clear that Wendy belonged to Shelby Marx and vice-versa.


	11. iChoose The Long And Winding Road

**iChoose The Long And Winding Road**

Wendy Miller gawked at the muscular fighter for a long moment. Something wasn't entirely right here, aside from the obvious. She surveyed Shelby's body – from head to toe – for a moment before realizing that the tanned, toned, cut young woman was everything she would ever need. Her mouth fell open slightly, her tongue barely visible. Shelby could read her like a book, even in this short time.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

Wendy smiled stupidly.

"Just realized something…"

"And what's that, Red?"

Wendy's nose wrinkled. Shelby'd sidetracked her.

"Why do you call me that?"

Shelby shot her a smile. She was no longer a fighter. She was now simply Shelby Marx, the woman.

"The hair… duh…"

Wendy laughed. This was the perfect moment. Despite everything, Wendy felt content.

"I just realized that we're all alone…"

"Yeah, I'm usually the only chick in the building, but I obviously can't get changed in front of those guys, so I've basically got all this space to myself…"

`Wendy smirked.

"Obviously not…"

Her finger gently brushed Shelby's lower lip.

Shelby was still fuzzy on the details.

"What're you…?"

Wendy was incredibly direct.

"Just kiss me already, won't you?"

Shelby's mouth hung open, as though she'd just gotten clipped on the jaw.

"Wendy?"

The redhead smirked.

"Come on, you know you wanna…"

Shelby grinned. Sure, she did. She leaned close, kissing Wendy tentatively before letting herself get lost in the moment. As much as she tried to fight it, Shelby knew Wendy was the one for her.

_**LATER THAT AFTERNOON AT THE GROOVY SMOOTHIE…**_

Shelby relaxed, lying sidelong against Wendy's chest. Her head hurt, but she was comfortable now. She hid her face behind oversized sunglasses and a Cobras hoodie. Wendy brushed her dark hair gently, stopping occasionally to feed her a fry.

"Say _Ahh_, Champ…"

Shelby flushed.

"Don't call me that in public…"

"Why not?"

"It's just… awkward…"

Wendy shook her head. She didn't care. She simply went about her business.

"Say _Ahh_…"

Shelby obliged. She knew that this was the only way.

A moment later, Wendy spotted a very familiar face.

"Carly!" She waved. The pretty brunette bounced over to the corner booth, presently occupied by her friend and the prizefighter.

"Wendy!" Carly hugged her, followed by Shelby.

"Shelby, you look like you were just hit by a train… You okay?"

The fighter groaned.

"That's not too far off… Where's your blonde little lap dog?"

Carly's jaw clenched. She wished that Shelby and Sam didn't have this thing between them – whatever it was – and could simply be friends.

"Sam's, uh, _running __errands_ for her Uncle Carmine… I just wanted to get lunch."

At Wendy's invitation, Carly sat opposite them, making small talk.

"So… are you guys… ya know… is it official?"

Shelby pulled aside the neck of her sweatshirt, showing off a deep red mark.

Carly gasped.

"Wendy!"

The redhead blushed.

"Oops!"

Carly shifted nervously in her seat, pulling awkwardly at the neckline of her own shirt, anxious to hide Sam's handiwork.

The redhead glared at her.

"Carly Shay…"

Carly blushed.

"Hate to ruin your moment, you guys, but…"

Wendy noticed.

"Oh, sorry babe…"

Wendy pulled an amber bottle from her purse, uncapped it, and shook two large pills into her hand. Carly was astounded. She'd never seen anything that size. Her own medication looked nothing like that.

"Open up, Shelby Jane…"

The champion opened her mouth slightly, allowing her new girlfriend's fingers to slip between her lips and deposit the pills on her tongue. As soon as Wendy's fingers were clear, Shelby gulped, swallowing the pills dry.

Shelby turned gingerly to her friend, the pretty web starlet.

"Pain killers…"

Carly politely nodded and sought a change of subject.

"Um… You guys…"

Shelby could see in the brunette's eyes that she was conflicted. Before she could say anything, Carly's phone chirped, signaling a text message. Carly glanced at her phone and squealed happily. Shelby rolled her eyes at her.

"You're such a girl, Shay…"

Carly smirked.

"I know… Sam kinda likes it…"

Shelby tried to like Sam, but that blonde made everything so damn difficult.

"I have to ask, Carly… What's the attraction there? I mean, I know she probably rocks your world and stuff…"

"Shelby!" Wendy fussed.

"What? I mean, I'm sure she does…"

"Maybe, but you don't ask something like that…"

Carly was embarrassed, but they were friends.

"Shelby… it's… whatever… it's complicated…"

Shelby laughed.

"I don't want play-by-play here, Shay… I just… don't get it…"

Carly heard her order number called and dashed off for her cheeseburger, smoothie, and fries.

As soon as the brunette was out of earshot, a girl-fight broke out in the booth.

"Shelby, honestly!..."

The fighter shot her girlfriend a lazy grin.

"I blame the drugs…"

Shelby was impossible, but Wendy loved her anyway.

"Shelby… you don't out our friends in…"

Carly returned to the table with her food. Wendy segued back into conversation without missing a beat or – more importantly – giving away that Carly Shay had just been the topic of discussion. The brunette was immediately drawn to the darkening ring around the muscular girl's left eye.

"Oh Shelby, you really should get that looked at…"

Wendy jumped in.

"That's just what I've been saying, but Miss Big Shot over here insists –"

Shelby cut Wendy off.

"It's not that bad…"

Carly felt that panicky feeling rise inside her chest. She did her best to push it down.

"Maybe not, but people will think that Wendy's abusing you…"

Carly smiled, sucking on her Strawberry Splat. It was her attempt at humor.

_**LATER THAT NIGHT…**_

Carly wanted to tell Sam everything that she'd done today, but had been sworn to secrecy by Wendy over her relationship with Shelby. She knew Sam wouldn't understand, at least not entirely, so she proceeded with caution.

"Sam, I had a really nice surprise today… I ran into Wendy at the Groovy Smoothie and we caught up on things…"

Sam talked through her plate of fresh cheese ravioli.

" 'Snice, Cupcake… She still all… ya know… Wendy?"

Carly rolled her eyes.

"Of course, but… she said to say thank you… ya know, for pulling strings the night she went… you know, to that thing…"

Carly was trying to avoid mentioning Shelby's name, since Sam had gotten it into her little blonde head that the fighter was trying to steal Carly away from her and had been since their exhibition a few years back.

"'Sno problem, Cupcake… Uncle Carmine is into the security racket big-time, so it was easy to call in a favor, especially for Wendy… Even if she was, ya know, trying to meet… _her_…"

"Oh, for the thousandth time, Sam! Shelby Marx isn't interested in me as anything other than a friend…"

Sam set her plate on the coffee table and wound her hand around the brunette's waist.

"Better not be… You belong to Mama… and if that chick thinks her big, flashy title belt will save her from a street fight with Mama, she's got another thought comin'…"

Carly rolled her eyes and let it drop. She had ways of getting Sam to forget.


	12. iNurse You Back To Health

**iNurse You Back To Health**

Wendy led Shelby Marx to her bed. She had promised her mother that nothing funny would happen. The story of Shelby's recent injury – perhaps ever so slightly embellished – had earned the fighter a night beneath Wendy's roof.

Wendy knew nothing sexual would go on under her parents' roof, at least nothing that she planned on at the moment. She laid on the bed with Shelby, staring off into space, just talking.

"Shelby…"

"Yeah?"

"I really like you, ya know…"

Shelby, of course, knew very well.

"Yeah, I kinda figured… you know, with the whole kissing me thing…"

Wendy let Shelby's little jab go. She draped her hand across Shelby's stomach.

"I mean… I didn't expect this to happen, Shelby… but… you're… dammit, you're the one I want…"

Shelby chuckled.

"So you keep telling me."

The champion felt warm and safe here. With Wendy, she felt whole. Her childhood was screwed up. The only things that got Shelby out of bed in the morning of late were her love for her Nana and the opportunity to spend time with the redheaded art geek.

Shelby felt sleepy, but knew that it wasn't a good idea, at least until she got checked out by her doctor. The weird buzzing sensation still hadn't gone away, not that she'd tell Wendy, for fear of worrying her.

Wendy read her mind.

"It's okay…"

Shelby looked the pretty girl in the eye. She knew that Wendy knew, but neither would say it.

"Shelby, I know… it's okay, I'll stay up…"

The fighter wasn't used to this. She was the champion. She was supposed to be the strong one. Wendy pulled her close.

"Shelby, it's alright… you deserve some rest.

She did. She was exhausted. Against her better judgment, Shelby Marx leaned back into the gentle redhead and shut her eyes.

Wendy stroked the other girl's dark hair as her chest rose and fell. She was in love. She knew it.

"I love you, Shelby Marx…" she whispered.

The fighter muttered in her sleep.

_**THE FOLLOWING MORNING…**_

Shelby Marx's eyes fluttered. It took a few moments before her eyes adjusted to the light. She rolled onto her hip and looked into Wendy's eyes.

"Hi…"

Wendy smiled, yawning slightly. Shelby noticed her bedside table. It was littered with empty Peppy Cola cans. The truth was obvious, even to a barely conscious prizefighter with a head injury.

"You… you didn't sleep all night, did you?"

"Didn't leave the room except to go to the bathroom… You were alone for maybe two minutes at any given time."

Shelby thought that this was ridiculous, but she knew that the redhead loved her.

"Wendy, you deserve to sleep… "

Wendy smirked.

"I'll sleep when I'm tired, Champ…"

"You'll crash from all that caffeine soon enough, Wendy…"

Wendy leaned close and kissed Shelby square on the forehead.

"How's my big, strong girl this morning? Head feel better?"

Shelby smiled brightly.

"Eh, about as well as you'd expect… but not so bad, really… I mean, it's… okay…"

Wendy kissed Shelby's forehead.

"Go on… Go take a hot shower… It'll do you a world of good."

_**HALF AN HOUR LATER…**_

Shelby Marx returned to Wendy's bedroom, wrapped in two towels. Wendy smirked.

"Feel better?"

Shelby had to admit that she did. Seeing Wendy smiling at her made things even better. The fighter grinned.

"You're kinda crazy, you know that, Red?"

Wendy followed her instinct and simply stuck her tongue out, being playful and silly, like she always wanted to be. Shelby Marx gave her the warm tinglies in her stomach. Wendy blushed.

"Are you… you know… under there?"

Shelby smirked.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know…"

Shelby Marx crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, next to her redheaded beauty.

"Wendy, look… You've been so good to me lately… I just… I don't deserve this amazing kind of treatment…"

Wendy flushed, throwing her arm around the fighter's muscular bare shoulders.

"Yes you do, Shelby…"

Shelby felt like an innocent little girl again, like she felt in those days before she had to strap on those gloves to defend herself – to kill all of the bad things that had been done to her by That Man. None of that mattered right now. She was with Wendy Miller, and the pretty, fire-haired artist made everything alright.

"Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to… Can we just… God, I sound like a total girl… Could we just, ya know, cuddle?"

Wendy let her fingers trace the fighter's bare shoulders.

"Of course, my dear. Wendy's right here for you…"

Shelby Marx wasn't sleepy, but she simply wanted to be held – by Wendy. She cozied into the redhead's chest and shut her eyes. Wendy whispered to her, picking on her playfully.

"Not so tough are you, Shelby?"

"Hmmm?"

"Nothing, Sweety… just rest…"

_**TWO HOURS LATER…**_

Shelby stirred in Wendy's arms. Her head was beginning to feel something more like normal. Wendy held tight to the fighter's waist, unwilling to let her go. The towel Shelby had wrapped herself in had disappeared in the interim, leaving the great champion quite exposed.

The champion stirred again.

"Shelby, stoppit! You're all… whatever…"

It was evident that Shelby wasn't awake. She was having another one of her _'__episodes__'_, but it was okay. Wendy knew what this was and how to keep everything under control. She and Shelby were good together. Wendy gently nibbled the soft part of the fighter's neck. It was all good. Shelby wasn't awake, but her body responded just the same. The champion got all twitchy and then relaxed, settling again into Wendy's arms.

_**A SHORT WHILE LATER…**_

Shelby Marx was finally awake; her nightmares subsided, safe and comfortable in the arms and bed of her new girlfriend.

"Wendy, I'm so sorry… I don't know what got into me before…"

Wendy smiled.

"Shelby, it's alright. You had a very rough day and everything… I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what…"

Shelby felt that odd head-rush feeling again.

"You what?"

Wendy Miller smirked and kissed the champion gently on the cheek.

"You heard me, Shelby… You're stuck with me…"


	13. iCome Unglued

**iCome Unglued**

Shelby fought her new girlfriend tooth and nail as the redhead pulled the fighter from the elevator on the fourth floor of the Harborview Medical Center.

Shelby saw the sign the minute that the doors opened and dug in her heels. _Neurology._

"No… Wendy… Not going!"

Wendy Miller yanked the famous fighter by the wrist.

"This is _not_ up for discussion, Shelby…"

The fighter didn't care for this one bit, although she knew she would endure anything for Wendy. Carly Shay was right. The artist was special.

_**MOMENTS LATER…**_

Shelby hated this part. She was the only person in Seattle whose chart the nursing staff didn't have to pull. The nurse, a pretty, young brunette, glanced up from the desk and smiled slightly in Shelby's direction.

"Why, hello Miss Marx… What seems to be that matter with us this morning?" she said sweetly, her voice belying a hint of a smile. Shelby chuckled, doing her best in an awkward situation not to fall out laughing herself. She smirked.

"Hey Grace… How's the wife and kid?"

"Fine, thanks…" The pretty young nurse gave Wendy the once-over. "Girlfriend?"

Shelby smirked.

"Yeah… Wendy, Grace. Grace, Wendy…"

Wendy Miller was uncomfortable with the entire situation, but did her best. She wasn't about to fall all over herself to impress some random gay nurse. Her response was steely and stiff, more typical of Sam Puckett than herself.

"Charmed…"

_**A HALF HOUR LATER…**_

Hospitals made Wendy uneasy. Every time she'd been in a hospital – this one particularly – she seemed to lose someone she was close to. Shelby squeezed her hand.

"Wen, it's okay… just gonna get checked out and make sure I don't have scrambled eggs for brains…"

Wendy knew that the fighter was trying to make light of her situation, but Wendy was still all whipped up inside.

"Shelby… Don't talk like that… Please?"

It was clear to Shelby that Wendy was nervous. She stroked the redhead's hand gently with her finger. Wendy stiffened. She was trying her very best to be discreet.

"Shelby… not here…" she whispered.

The fighter chuckled quietly.

"Wendy, everybody here _knows me_… plus it's called _confidentiality…_"

Shelby led Wendy to a quiet corner, settling into two out-of-the way chairs. Wendy rested her head against Shelby's shoulder. She felt completely emotionally spent. She loved the champion so very much, even if she couldn't properly articulate it.

_**A SHORT TIME LATER…**_

Wendy paced the floor. It had been the longest forty minutes of her life. Why they wouldn't let her stay with Shelby was beyond her. She loved her, didn't they understand that? Wasn't it blatantly obvious that she would _just die_ without Shelby? Couldn't they see that the fighter meant everything to her?

"Miss?"

Wendy was completely oblivious.

"Miss?"

Unbeknownst to Wendy, Shelby had just re-entered the room, confined to a wheelchair pushed by a black male nurse. The champion was able to get her attention.

"Yo… Ya miss me?"

Wendy's head whipped around. Seeing Shelby this way had her completely mixed up. She ran to her immediately. Shelby did her best to set Wendy's mind at ease, but when she got something in her head, it was nearly impossible to convince her otherwise. Shelby knew it was going to happen, but that didn't make Whipped-Up-Wendy any easier to deal with.

"Look… Wen… Before you get all whipped up, would you just listen to me for two seconds?"

Wendy looked to her partner with watery eyes. It hurt her to see Shelby this way. She decided to let Shelby explain. She'd be a good little girl and sit here, listening intently.

"Wendy, for the love of God, woman… I'm perfectly okay. They scanned my cat and everything is clickin' pretty much the way it should, so no harm, no foul. This chair is just a formality… their insurance would go through the roof if I didn't sit here like a good little patient…"

Wendy giggled, but was still the slightest bit confused. Finally, the little light bulb inside her brain clicked on.

"They sca… wait… oh… you mean you had a CAT scan…"

Shelby smirked.

"You worry too much…"

Wendy hugged Shelby awkwardly. She didn't care. She had been a nervous wreck for nearly an hour.

"Is it always like this, Shelby?"

"No, usually not… but you know, better safe than sorry, right?"

Wendy Miller was upset. She no longer wanted to hide how Shelby made her feel. She wanted to be the fighter's partner and better half, instead of simply 'plus-one'.

"Why couldn't I be in there with you? I was scared out of my mind…"

Shelby shushed her.

"It's complicated, Wendy… but I promise, from now on, you're allowed to be in the loop on everything, trust me…"

Wendy wanted to sob, but held herself together. Hospitals were evil, so far as she was concerned. She looked to the large man in scrubs, pushing Shelby's wheelchair.

"May I take her home, if it's all the same to you?"

The large male nurse didn't know what to say. Wendy thought he looked familiar, but couldn't place from where. Shelby finished the thought.

"Yo, Rick… My lady's gonna take it from here, Cool?"

He turned to Wendy and spoke with gentleness in his voice that the redhead wasn't expecting.

"Other than some dizziness, she should be fine. Anything over-the-counter should work for the headaches…"

Wendy smirked.

"I think I can handle that…"

_**OUTSIDE…**_

Wendy helped Shelby to the car.

"You know you scared me, Shelby. I want to be with you, but you have to consider me just a little bit. I mean, I'm proud of what you do, don't get me wrong, but…"

Shelby jumped in.

"…But you love me and I need to be careful, right?"

Wendy was speechless. Shelby had just said the words that Wendy couldn't bring herself to say.

"Wen, look… I want us to be together too, which is why I'll make you a deal. I have no intention of winding up all banged up and broken when my fighting career's over. I want to do other things… I want to have a life. That's why I'm giving up."

Wendy looked stunned as she helped Shelby into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt.

"Excuse me?"

"No… I mean… whatever! Do you want to be with me, Wendy?"

Wendy wanted to weep.

"God… More than anything in the world, Shelby…"

"Well… Then, I'm giving up. I'm done calling the shots. Whenever you want me to be done, I'll be done, I promise. If you think it's too rough, then I'm done."

Wendy kissed Shelby's cheek gently.

"Maybe we should take you to get a second opinion. I think you might've gotten hit harder in the head than we realize…"

Shelby smiled. She knew Wendy was teasing. She let the redhead keep talking.

"Come on, Champ… Let's get you home. I think somebody's earned a hot bubble bath and cuddle time on the sofa."

Shelby couldn't help but smile. She knew she was spoiled.


	14. iSwallow My Pride

**iSwallow My Pride**

Wendy tucked Shelby into bed, even if it was only the middle of the afternoon. Shelby did what she did best.

"Wendy! Dammit, stoppit! I'm fine! I'm not gonna…"

Through a flailing of tanned limbs, Wendy finally got the stripped-down champion to settle. Shelby was dressed only in a sports bra and a pair of surprisingly lacy underwear. Wendy found Shelby appealing, but now wasn't the time. Wendy adjusted the blankets, pulling the covers up to the fighter's chin. She spoke to Shelby the same way she would a small child.

"Shelby, I'm just trying to make sure you're okay, you know that, right?"

The fighter nodded, but still wasn't content. She kicked off the covers and sat up in Wendy's bed.

"I feel all… I dunno… grungy. Can I take a shower?"

Wendy did her best to hide a grin. She instantly had an idea.

"Sure… Bathroom's, you know, right through there…" she said, pointing to the doorway.

Wendy helped her out of bed and back into her sweats for a brief walk down the hall. She did her best to keep Shelby in front of her as she grabbed her PearPod off the nightstand, not wanting Shelby to see. It was all part of her plan. She slipped it into the pocket of her jeans and gave Shelby a playful pat on the backside, letting her hand linger perhaps a second too long.

"Go on, Champ… I'll be in in a second."

Shelby whined.

"Wendy! I can take a shower by myself…"

"Not with a head injury… I'm not coming in with you… I'll just be there if you need a little help, that's all…"

Shelby was self-conscious, but she knew that she shouldn't be. This pretty redhead meant everything to her, if only she could tell her. Wendy would never want her – the _real_ Shelby Marx – if she knew the truth.

_**MOMENTS LATER, IN WENDY'S BATHROOM…**_

Shelby Marx was already nude and behind the curtain by the time that Wendy entered the room.

"Brought you fresh towels, Champ… I'm just going to hang out, in case you feel a little woozy or something…"

Shelby nodded her head. She loved the attention, but didn't quite know what Wendy's angle was. There always had to be an angle, but with Wendy, Shelby couldn't find one. There was a chance that this girl really didn't see the fighter anymore and wasn't really all that interested in Jack Marx's scarred, battered little girl. There was a chance, however remote, that this quiet little art geek was interested in what made Shelby Marx, the woman, tick.

She was beneath the spray when she heard it. It was distant, yet familiar.

It was music. Wendy was singing. She was singing to her.

_"…You Know You… ah… Make Me Feel So Good Inside…"  
>"…Always Wanted A Girl just Like You…"<br>"…Such a P.Y.T… Pretty Young Thing …"_

_"…Where Did You Come From Lady?…"  
>"…And Ooh, Won't You Take Me There?..."<br>"…Right Away, Won't You Baby?..."  
>"…You've got to be…"<br>"…Spark my nature…"  
>"…Sugar fly with me…"<br>"…Don't You Know Now…"  
>"…is the perfect time…"<br>"…We can make it right…"  
>"…Hit the city lights…"<br>"…then tonight, ease the lovin' pain…"  
>"…Let me take you to the max…"<em>

_"…I want to love you, P.Y.T…."_  
><em>"…Pretty Young Thing…"<em>  
><em>"…You need some lovin'… T.L.C..."<em>  
><em>"…Tender Lovin' Care…"<em>  
><em>"…and I'll take you there…"<em>  
><em>"…I want to love you… P.Y.T…."<em>  
><em>"…Pretty Young Thing…"<em>  
><em>"…You need some lovin'… T.L.C…."<em>  
><em>"…Tender Lovin' Care…"<em>  
><em>"…and I'll take you there…"<em>

Shelby didn't know what to say. It was… different. It was, frankly, romantic. She was about to speak – ask Wendy what the Hell she was thinking – when she felt what had to be the most amazing feeling in the world.

The pads of Wendy's fingers, just the very tips, grazed the wet flesh of Shelby's upper back. The fighter thought her soul was on fire. She was afraid her knees would buckle, but it'd be worth it. She let herself slip slightly, only so Wendy could catch her.

She let the redhead catch her in that No-Woman's-Land between her stomach and her hips, as she stepped from the tub. It was by design, sure, but as nervous as she was, she had to put herself out there and see if Wendy felt for her what her soul told her Wendy meant. Deep inside, every fiber of Shelby Marx's being told her that this woman loved her with all that she was.

She took the towel from Wendy and wrapped herself, denying Wendy anything but a fleeting glimpse of her dewy, naked body. She was nervous. She flushed bright red.

"Don't… I'm not…."

"You're not what, Shel?"

"Decent…"

Wendy laughed.

"Shelby, you're the most decent person I know…"

Shelby didn't know what to say. She _did_ know, however, that this redhead – friend to Carly Shay and Sam Puckett – was the genuine article. Wendy was what she'd yearned for, dreamed of, and prayed for all of her life. Wendy was a woman with whom Shelby could see herself having a serious, committed, loving relationship – if not building a life with. She spoke up gently, not wanting to sound too awkward.

"Uh, Wendy?"

"Yeah huh?"

"Couldja hand me my pants and… um, turn around, if you would?"

Wendy did as Shelby asked, though not without reservation. She wanted to do everything she could to make her feel comfortable.

_**A SHORT TIME LATER, BACK IN WENDY'S ROOM…**_

Shelby knew she was overreacting, but she was finally comfortable. Lying here with Wendy, she felt safe. The dog snuggled between Shelby's knees. She was his new girl.

"Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"Just… Thank you…"

"Shelby, stop it…"

In public, Shelby was composed and confident. Here, in the real world, she was just Shelby, the girl abandoned by her parents, fashioned into a modern-day mercenary, who held her grandmother close. She was broken, but this girl made her feel complete.

"Wendy… we really should talk…"

"Shelby, you told me… your mom took off. Your dad's a bad man. I get it if it makes you uncomfortable…"

That was close to home, but it wasn't painful. Wendy wasn't like that. Wendy was safe, like a warm bath.

"Um… Wen…?"

"_Yes_, Shelby?"

"Um… I… we… um… I…"

"Yes?"

"I… I think I…"

Wendy laughed.

"What?"

Shelby flushed. This was so much easier inside her head.

"I… I… You're amazing, Wendy… I think I love you…"


	15. iRemember

**iRemember**

Shelby Marx was at home, alone, that night. It was her Nana's night to go out and play cards. She wanted to protect her – her only family to speak of – but she knew that Nana deserved her own time just as much as she did.

Shelby belly-flopped onto her bed, emotional. Her mind was racing. Training. Her title defense. Her father. Her _miserable, useless, pig _of a father. Wendy. Her mind always circled back around to Wendy. She knew goddamned well that she loved Wendy, but her lips tripped over her brain and the words didn't come out right. She felt the tears hit her pillow – tears for what had happened years ago. It had nothing to do with Wendy. All Shelby knew was that she needed her. She needed the pretty redhead to make the bad things inside go away and allow her to feel safe.

Shelby thumbed through her journal, fighting with her own tears. She thought back to her fight abroad last year. It was the last time she'd heard so much as a word about her father. He was out of sight and out of mind, locked away where he belonged.

She was overseas last year, training for a title defense in Johannesburg, South Africa when she'd heard he was attempting to contact her. She didn't care. She'd locked all of his letters and cards away unopened. On that trip, for whatever reason, she found herself listening repeatedly to the message he'd left on her voicemail before she'd departed Seattle. She'd written about it in her journal.

* * *

><p><em><strong>7 February<strong>_

_**Jo'burg, RSA**_

_**That Man called before I left. Thank God I didn't have to talk to him. All those phone calls begin the same way… 'The following is a collect call from an inmate at the Washington State Penitentiary…' I don't give a goddamn anymore. You know what you did, and I want you to live with it, until it eats you alive, just like it almost did me.**_

* * *

><p>Shelby wiped away a tear before beginning to read again. This was so fucking hard, but it was fuel for the fire. It was baggage that she pushed so far down – <em>"into the basement"<em>—that she didn't have to deal with it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Music's always been my salvation, away from all of this. It's where you can go when it's dark and dreary and going to swallow you up and it doesn't matter. It can be dark and dreary, but it can lift you up, all because someone had the brilliance to put the words down and lift their voice. I'm pumpin' kind of an edgy tune right now, but how can you argue with the King of Pop? It's like he knows what happened to me…<strong>_

* * *

><p>Shelby had proceeded to scribble down the song lyrics in long-hand. To her, they made perfect sense. It allowed her to be dark, brood, and be focused. She would channel all of this into the controlled rage she would need to do her job, get paid, and go home. It was all a means to an end.<p>

_"…I'm tired of injustice…"  
>"…I'm tired of the schemes…"<br>"…it's kinda disgusting…"  
>"…what does it mean, damn it?..."<br>"…Kicking me down…"  
>"…I got to get up…"<br>"…As jacked as it sounds…"  
>"…The whole system sucks!..."<em>

_"…Peek in the shadow…"_  
><em>"…I come into the light…"<em>  
><em>"…You tell me I'm wrong…"<em>  
><em>"…Then you better prove you're right…"<em>  
><em>"…You're sellin' out souls but…"<em>  
><em>"…I care about mine…"<em>  
><em>"…I've got to get stronger…"<em>  
><em>"…And I won't give up the fight…"<em>

_"…With such confusions don't it make you wanna scream…Make you wanna scream…"_  
><em>"…You're bash abusin' victimize within the scheme…"<em>  
><em>"…You try to cope with every lie they scrutinize…"<em>

_"…Somebody please have mercy…"_  
><em>"…'Cause I just can't take it…"<em>  
><em>"…Stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Just stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Make me wanna scream…"<em>  
><em>"…Stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Just stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Make me wanna scream…"<em>

_"…Tired of you tellin' the story your way…"_  
><em>"…It's causin' confusion…"<em>  
><em>"…You think it's okay…"<em>

_"…You're changin' the rules…"_  
><em>"…While I keep playin' the game…"<em>  
><em>"…I can't take it much longer…"<em>  
><em>"…I think I'm'a go insane…"<em>

_"…With such confusions, don't it make you wanna scream…make you wanna scream…"_  
><em>"…Your bash abusin' victimize within' the scheme…"<em>

_"…You find your pleasure scandalizin' every lie…"_

_"…Oh father, please have mercy 'cause I just can't take it…"_  
><em>"…Stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Just stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Make me wanna scream…"<em>  
><em>"…Stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Just stop pressurin' me…"<em>  
><em>"…Stop fuckin' with me…"<em>  
><em>"…Make me wanna scream…"<em>

* * *

><p>Shelby's loose script included one further line:<p>

* * *

><p><em>Oh my God, can't believe what I saw as I turned on the TV this evening...<br>I was disgusted by all the injustice – all the injustice…_

* * *

><p>Shelby cried. She still hurt, despite the passage of time. She knew what she needed to do.<p>

"Wendy?" Shelby sniffled. "Yeah, it's… it's me… dammit… I…. can you just come over?"

_**TWENTY FIVE MINUTES LATER…**_

Wendy barged through the door. Shelby's home was dead quiet. She called to her.

"Shel? Shelby!"

The champion came running from her bedroom, tears streaming from her eyes, carrying a small book. Meeting Wendy, they embraced.

"Wendy… honey, I…"

"Whoa, whoa, wait… you called me _'honey'_…"

Shelby swallowed hard. The words had just sort of slipped out. She hadn't intended them to. She held Wendy close, inhaling her sweetness, drawing it into her chest.

"Wendy, look, we just need to talk, okay?"

The redhead nodded stupidly.

"So talk, Champ… I'm not going anywhere…"

From anyone else, that tone would have earned a roundhouse kick to the mouth, but this was Wendy. From this girl, it was different. This tone – from this girl – said that they were equals. Wendy was the softness that muted Shelby's brash exterior and the warmth that coddled the softness that the fighter kept hidden. They simply fit together.

"Wendy… look… what I said the other night…"

"Please don't tell me that you…"

Wendy was heartsick. She had inescapably misunderstood.

Shelby interrupted. It was abrupt and harsh. It was what Shelby was.

"I love you, dammit… Don't you get that?"

Shelby gave in to the voice inside her head and kissed Wendy as forcefully and passionately as she dared.

Wendy felt her knees buckle.


	16. iLove You, Wendy Sue

**iLove You, Wendy Sue**

Shelby felt like a new woman the next morning. She was a woman on a mission. She knew – deep down – what needed to be done today. She knew what needed to be done in order to heal her world.

Wendy stirred in bed next to her. Shelby was glad she'd stayed. Nana had come home late from playing cards with her church friends. Shelby's life was whole again.

Wendy Miller's eyes fluttered in the morning light. It took a second before she knew where she was, although it came to her as soon as the scent of Shelby's hair settled in her nostrils. The scent of Shelby wasn't at all unpleasant to her. To Wendy, Shelby smelled like a strange combination of _'clean'_ and _'dirty'_. Even the unclean smell of the gym was strangely appealing. She buried her nose in Shelby's hair.

"Mmmm… You smell… mmmm…"

Shelby couldn't help but giggle.

"You're weird, Red… I need to shower…"

"Can I join you?"

"Wendy!"

"What?"

"Bad little art geek!"

Wendy gave Shelby her best Boo-Boo Lips.

"What? I love the environment… _'Conserve water, shower with a friend…'_"

Shelby had to admit, Wendy had a certain allure to her, bad girl that she wanted to be.

"All in due time, Wendy Sue… If it's meant to happen, it'll happen…"

Shelby knew very well what Wendy Miller wanted – it was impossible not to know. The only problem was that it didn't fit her plan. Despite all the pain, trauma, and uncertainty of her formative years, Shelby Marx knew this much was true: She knew that love found you when you were least expecting it and that it would be what it was meant to be. She had her own plans. She leaned in and kissed Wendy firmly on the forehead.

"Wendy, you know I love you, right?"

"You said that, yeah… made me all warm inside and weak in the knees…"

Shelby smiled broadly, blushing.

"Good, I'm glad."

Shelby playfully touched the tip of Wendy's nose, playing with the pretty redhead as though she were a toddler.

"Wendy… I've got to go out for a little while… It's personal. Will Shelby's favorite redhead be a good girl and stay right here and wait for me?"

Wendy smiled. Shelby was babying her for a reason.

"I love you, Shelby…"

"Ditto, Red…"

_**FORTY FIVE MINUTES LATER, ACROSS TOWN…**_

Shelby Marx wandered into the out-of-the-way, crowded, run-down storefront. Shelby wasn't the downy innocent people sometimes took her for. The place looked dirty, world-weary, and just far enough out of the way so as to not draw the attention of the Seattle P.D.

The chimes on the door jingled.

"By Appointment Only!"

The footfalls kept coming. The heavy boots sounded like they could be male, but were somehow hollow.

"By Appointment Only!"

Shelby Marx replied the only way she knew how.

"Fuck off…"

This woman had no idea who she was screwing with.

"I don't work for little girls…"

Shelby stepped into the light, walked straight up to the display case, propped herself up by the elbows, and cracked her knuckles.

"Good… 'cuz I'm not a little girl…"

He finally recognized her. How could he not? He spoke in heavily accented broken English.

"You... I know you… You fight the women… You… Shelby Marx, No?"

Shelby was not amused. He thought he would flatter her when, really, all he was doing was making himself look like a chauvinistic ass. Two could play at this game.

"… And _you're_ Donnie Giordano, AKA Donnie G, AKA Don the Jeweler… you're a two-bit fence from Miami just out on parole, and I know you have a more-than-healthy fear of Carmine Puckett…"

The color drained from the man's olive face.

"How…?"

Shelby glared at him. She was inside his head, screwing with his mind. She wasn't finished.

"…_And_… you just did a nickel upstate with my father… transporting stolen goods…"

The thin Italian was nervous.

"What do you want?"

Shelby slammed her fist on the case.

"Now that I have your attention, jackass…. Rings…"

_**MOMENTS LATER…**_

Shelby angrily threw the ring back in Donnie's face. It hit him on the cheek, cutting it slightly. She could no longer hold her tongue. She was pouring on her ring persona full-force.

"Perhaps your English is still rusty, Fuckhead… I said I was interested in diamonds and you have the stones to try to snow me with a fuckin' _fugazi_?"

The jeweler took serious offense at the street term. How dare she accuse him of selling her a fake?

"You look at it for two seconds… How you say it's a _fugazi_?"

"I say it's a _fugazi_ 'cuz I know a _fugazi_ when I see one. Look, I'm going to level with you, Donnie… I'm on a bit of a schedule here… and you've got thirty _itty, bitty_ seconds to show me the real deal and sell it to me for half of what you paid for it on the street or… well… I kick you in the head."

Shelby was matter-of-fact. She said it as though she had just told him that the sky was blue.

_**A SHORT WHILE LATER…**_

Shelby peeled off a few bills from the wad of cash in her pocket before speaking up.

"…Oh, and Donnie?"

"Sì?"

"The drawer looks a little light… You wouldn't want me to tell your boss you're trying to take food out of his mouth, now would you?"

The jeweler shook in his loafers. This little girl meant business.

"I thought not… Good day…"

Shelby playfully swatted him across the cheek. It was fun to wield the Sword of Damocles over his head and watch him squirm.

_**A SHORT WHILE LATER, BACK AT HOME…**_

Shelby stripped down to her bra and panties and slipped back into bed. It was very nearly lunchtime, but she didn't care. She slid close to the pretty, sleepy redhead.

"Pssst… Hey, Red… Mama's home…"

Wendy made a sweet cooing noise and snuggled herself tightly up against the champion fighter.

"Where were you?"

"Something I needed to do, that's all, Sweetheart…"

Wendy giggled.

"You called me _'Sweetheart'_…"

Shelby kissed her gently on the cheek.

"I've got a surprise for you…"

Wendy laughed, giggling like a sleepy little child.

"Oooh… Wendy like surprises…"

Shelby planted a slightly forceful, heavy kiss on the girl's forehead.

"I know… Later… I promise…"

The fighter was in love. She threw her arm around the pretty, partially nude redhead, pulled her close, and allowed sleep to come.


	17. iCommit To You

**iCommit to You**

Shelby woke up early. She'd held Wendy in her arms for the past two hours. They were two beautiful, blissful hours. Her fingers played across the redhead's bare naked stomach. Wendy squirmed. Shelby was happy. She leaned close and kissed Wendy's forehead.

Wendy's eyes fluttered, looking Shelby in the face.

"Hi..." she yawned.

Shelby smirked.

"Hey, Red…"

Wendy flushed.

"Shelby…"

The champion held the pretty redhead close, not wanting to let her go, but knowing that they had to get up and face the day again. She tickled Wendy gently. Wendy laughed. Shelby gave her all of her attention.

"Wendy, you know how special you are to me, right?"

Wendy did. She knew that the fighter was in love with her. She knew she needed to speak up.

"Shelby… I… the most amazing dream…"

Shelby grinned.

"Tell me all about it, Red…"

_**A SHORT TIME LATER…**_

Shelby held her close. She knew one thing for sure: Whatever happened for the rest of her life, she knew that this little redhead had to be a part of it. Wendy babbled on about her lovely dream, involving beautiful things yet to come. Shelby had to smile. It was everything she could ever want in the world. She chuckled in Wendy's face.

"Ya sure about all that, Wendy?"

The artist didn't know if Shelby was being sweet or insulting. She looked hurt.

"Hang on there, Red… Don't go completely around the twist… I love you…"

Wendy stuck out her lip. She wanted to pout.

"…But…"

Shelby stroked her hair.

"Look… it was just the cutest damn thing I'd ever heard in my life… Do you really believe…?"

Shelby stopped herself. She didn't want to believe it, despite the fact that Wendy's happy thoughts gave her the warm fuzzies inside. If she simply passed it off as a dream, it wouldn't matter when she couldn't live up to Wendy's expectations. No harm, no foul.

Wendy smiled and was abundantly happy. The one thing she wanted above all else in her life was Shelby Marx.

"Shelby… I… I mean, you're amazing… I can't tell you why, exactly, but I'm crazy, stupid in love with you… and I…"

Shelby cut her off with one well-placed finger across the lips.

"Shhh… Ditto. I get it…"

Shelby didn't need to hear the words. She knew them by heart. She knew that she made Wendy go all jumpy inside and warmed her special places. She felt for this redhead the way she had never imagined was possible. Shelby had come to terms with who she was years ago, back when she was just a little girl learning the fight game, seeking an outlet for what had been done to her. Back then, fighting was just what she did to work out her inner demons. It was then that she realized that boys didn't do much for her – that she fancied the ladies all the more. It was at this time that she learned that there was a name for her condition – for people like her – and she didn't feel so alone.

Shelby loved Wendy. She didn't need to say it outright, but she knew that Wendy knew. She wanted to find the perfect way to tell her. She had an idea, but it would need to wait until tonight, when her Nana left to help serve both God and community at All Pilgrims Church tonight. Ted Franklin had organized a weekly fish-fry, and Shelby and her Nana were frequent attendees. Shelby didn't like the idea of skipping out on God, but, from her point of view, wouldn't God absolve her, given that one of the greatest commandments was to love?

She thought it made sense. She leaned in and kissed Wendy again, ever so gently.

"I love you, Wendy…"

It took a moment for Shelby to realize that her precious, sweet little redhead had fallen fast asleep. Wendy's head was now nuzzled against Shelby's chest. Shelby most assuredly didn't mind.

_**LATER THAT EVENING…**_

Everything was perfect. Shelby couldn't have orchestrated things better if she'd tried. Nana had gone with a few other ladies from church. Shelby, for her part, had begged off, telling Nana that she and Wendy needed some private time, not to mention the fact that her head was still bothering her. Shelby's dear, sweet grandmother didn't think twice. She grasped the concept that her granddaughter, for whatever reason, preferred the company of young ladies. She didn't give it a second thought. If this was how her God had made Shelby, then that was simply the way Shelby was meant to be. The older lady kissed her granddaughter gently on the lips.

"I love you…"

"Love you too, Nana…"

What happened next shocked Shelby even more than her recent concussion. Shelby's Nana pulled the redheaded girl close, kissing her gently on the cheek.

"Look after her… I worry, with this fighting she does…"

Wendy blushed.

"Yes, maam…"

_**HALF AN HOUR LATER…**_

They had cozied up together, watching a fight on TV. Shelby had to concede that her sport was fucking boring on television, particularly when she wasn't the main event.

Shelby took Wendy by the hand, distracting her from the fight. She wanted Wendy's full attention.

"…She's not so tough… I kicked her in the head and she went down like a tonna bricks…"

Wendy giggled. Shelby was so funny.

Wendy was about to rest her head on Shelby's chest, only Shelby was gone. Before she knew it, Shelby was on her knees, in tears.

Wendy, much like her ham-loving high school friend, jumped immediately to the wrong conclusion. All she could think of was the knee Shelby had dislocated during her last title fight.

"Shelby… honey… are you hurt?"

Tears flowed freely from Shelby Marx's eyes. For the first time in years, she held nothing back.

"Wendy… I…"

The redhead was still in the dark until Shelby spoke, kneeling between Wendy's legs.

"Wendy, I love you… I want us to… dammit… Wendy… I can't be without you… Will…?"

Shelby thrust the large gold-and-diamond band into her hands.

"Wendy… I'm crazy about you… I want to grow old with you…"

Wendy swept the champion into her arms. There was only one answer.

"Shelby… I love you too…"


	18. iBanish the Demons

**iBanish the Demons**

Shelby was in the shower as Wendy pawed at her cell phone. She just _had_ to tell someone.

The choice was obvious. She called the only person she knew who would understand. She called Carly Shay.

"…_Hello?"_

"Carly, I… We've gotta talk…"

Sam's precious little cupcake didn't understand. Wendy sniffed back tears.

"_Wendy, She didn't… she… didn't dump you, did she?"_

Wendy giggled. Carly was smart, but sometimes, she was so clueless as to be adorable.

"No, Carly… just the opposite, in fact…"

It took a moment for the words to process. It was as though the pretty brunette was working her way through complex astrophysics.

"_Just the oppo… OH MY GOD, Shelby asked you to marry her, didn't she?"_

Carly's excited tone scared the living hell out of Wendy. She didn't want Sam to know.

"Shhhh!"

Carly chuckled.

"_Relax… she's not here… She out right now…"_

Wendy and Carly clucked away, like they were still back at Ridgeway. They were beyond happy for one another. They gabbed on for nearly another ten minutes before Carly interrupted, politely telling Wendy that she needed to go.

…_Oooh, gotta go… incoming call. It's Freddie. He said he'd come over so we could talk over wedding stuff… You two will be there, right?"_

Wendy thought the truth of the matter was obvious.

"With bells on, Carly. You know I couldn't be happier for you guys…"

"Gotta go… I've got a prizefighter to towel-dry…"

Carly giggled.

"…_Ewww, Wendy… That just sounds dirty…"_

The two friends said their goodbyes, Wendy excusing herself, as she heard Shelby's shower cut off.

_**A SHORT WHILE LATER…**_

Shelby and Wendy cuddled on the sofa. Wendy felt silly.

"Shelby…?"

Shelby Marx wanted to be funny. She stepped into the world of hip-hop.

"…I am whoever you say I am…"

"C'mon, Shel… be serious…"

Shelby chuckled. It seemed like she was serious _except_ for when she was with Wendy. She hadn't intended the words to come out, but they did just the same.

"Yes, Redheaded love of my life?"

Wendy was taken aback, but only for a second. The silence was awkward and palpable.

"Shel… I have a million questions… Why me? Why now? Where in God's Name did you find a ring like this?"

Wendy admired the white gold and diamond band now firmly on her ring finger.

Shelby paused a moment, thinking how to answer.

"Well… because you're amazing… because it feels right… and a place downtown…"

_**A SHORT TIME LATER…**_

Shelby slipped her low-rise jeans on, completely comfortable in the knowledge that Wendy had just checked out her ass yet again.

"Wendy?"

"Yeah huh?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can, Shelby, you know that…"

It was a question that Shelby had danced around since she'd met Wendy – as skillfully as she danced in the ring. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know the answer.

Wendy blushed. She could see Shelby's cheeks growing pink with embarrassment.

"C'mon… Out with it… What do you want to know?"

The fact was that Shelby's orientation was, _well_, something of a mystery, even to the fighter herself. She paid a sports psychologist good money to attempt to deduce how A led to B, led to C, led to Z.

Shelby was less self-assured now than she'd felt in ages, but needed to ask.

"Wen…?"

Wendy smiled.

"Yes, dear?"

Shelby's mood lightened. She chuckled.

"I just…" she paused. Her palms began to sweat, like when she entered the ring to defend her title, but she played it off. "…when did you know?"

Wendy knew exactly what the champion fighter was asking. She touched Shelby's leg gently, non-sexually.

"I guess I always knew I was, ya know, different… why?"

Shelby felt nervous. She simply let herself flop, sidelong, into Wendy.

_**AN HOUR-LONG HEART-TO-HEART LATER…**_

Wendy smiled. She kissed Shelby gently on the cheek. The champion had come unglued again, telling Wendy everything in the world. The _'stuff'_ had been swept from _'the basement'_. Shelby Marx had let go of all the internal evilness that had made her the callous, cold, fighting machine. All that was left was the broken little girl that Jack Marx left behind the day he went to prison. Shelby was no longer a strong, powerful young woman in her twenties. Wendy held an over-sized six-year-old girl in her arms, assuring her that everything would be okay. She stroked Shelby's hair.

"Shhh… Shelby… I know… I mean, I don't know… but… it'll be okay… I'm here…"

Shelby had unburdened her soul. Wendy was the only person who would ever know the truth. Shelby knew that her Nana knew, but it was never discussed. Old pain could instantly become new pain. Only Wendy could ever know what had happened to make her the way that she was. Only Wendy could fix whatever was broken inside of her.

"Wendy?..."

The voice was timid and fractured. Wendy knew that they needed each other. She gently kissed Shelby's neck in the way that she knew the fighter liked. She didn't want things to go to some wild, sexual place they hadn't yet been, but she knew only one way to show love. Wendy kissed the carotid artery in Shelby's neck. Shelby tasted wonderfully sweet, but Wendy knew this wasn't about getting Shelby into bed – this was about showing the fighter how much she mattered. She kissed her partner's neck again tenuously before withdrawing, embarrassed. She was afraid that her partner would think that she was taking advantage of her.

"Shelby, I'm sorry…"

The fighter turned her tear-speckled face to the redhead and smiled.

"You're the best thing I've got going for me, Wendy… Don't you ever apologize for anything…"

Wendy's hand brushed Shelby's forehead.

"Shelby, I just didn't want you to think…"

Shelby knew what Wendy thought.

"C'mon… I get it… You're not about to do... ya know, _that_… and I get it. It's cool. All I want is to be with you. I'm not expecting anything else."

Wendy Miller held Shelby Marx close. This was enough for tonight. The redhead let the exhausted champion fall sidelong into her chest. It was time to let sleep come, along with the peace of dreams.


End file.
